Hogwarts 1940
by King in Yellow
Summary: The war in Europe and a trainload of muggle children, sent as evacuees to the safety of Hogsmeade, receive more attention in the village than events in the wizards' school. Familiar names wear younger faces. Acts of kindness bring their own punishment.
1. The Hogsmeade Parliamentary Train

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. But a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack did canon checking for my previous story. She furnished the understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore used in this story.

**The Hogsmeade Parliamentary Train**

The idea that Hitler might take Europe to war seemed inconceivable to all who remembered the horrors and devastation of the Great War. The Austrian with the funny moustache was utterly racist, even in an era which accepted racism as normal, but no sane person would provoke the kind of bloodshed the world experienced two decades earlier.

As Germany broke provisions of the Treaty of Versailles the French screamed for its allies to enforce the Treaty. Hitler blandly accused the French of being overly-vindictive in the terms dictated to Germany and insisted the Germans only wanted the same treatment accorded every other nation in Europe. The French had been vindictive in the treaty. And with the stories coming out of the USSR of atrocities committed by Stalin the West might need Hitler in a war against the Russians. Britain and the other allies ignored France's call to punish Germany. No one believed war could happen.

By the peaceful annexation of Austria in March of 1938 political instability in France left the country unable to raise the same level of protest they had earlier managed. The English hoped it represented the end of Hitler's ambition. And no one believed anyone would provoke another war.

In the autumn Germany cast its eyes on Czechoslovakia. Chamberlain, Britain's Prime Minister, flew to Germany to consult with Hitler. The Fuhrer assured him that Germany had no desire for war, and only wished to promote German nationalism. Chamberlain flew home to assure the English that there would be peace, as Germany annexed portions of Czechoslovakia with a large population of Germans, and later reduced the rest of the nation to a protectorate. Germany then cast its eyes on Poland.

Finally accepting the unthinkable, in March of 1939 Britain and France declared they would view the invasion of Poland as an act of war. In the summer of 1939 the two great enemies, Germany and the USSR, negotiated a non-aggression pact. Ostensibly to bring greater peace to Europe, the accord was designed to keep Germany from needing to fight another two-front war. Secret protocols attached to the treaty defined how the two powers would divide Europe between them. As stunned nations watched two countries which had, for years, declared each other the greatest evil on earth sign the pact German diplomats assured allies and neutrals that the treaty merely reflected economic reality and a desire for peace. On August 24th the non-aggression pact was signed. On September 1, 1939 Germany crossed the Polish border to annex its 'share' of Poland.

Also on September 1 the British government implemented Operation Pied Piper. Thousands of young children were evacuated from London and other major cities to the villages and countryside. Between September 1939 and May of 1940, the Phony War, the citizens of Europe held their breaths and wondered what had happened. Was Hitler's thirst for power and territory finally slaked? Would England and France dare attack the more powerful Germany? During the long period of nervous uncertainty most of the children who had been evacuated slipped quietly back to their homes.

On May 10th, 1940 Germany attacked France with unprecedented speed. Thousands of British soldiers found themselves cut off on the Continent. Chamberlain resigned as Prime Minister and Churchill became the leader of the nation. Within weeks France was forced to capitulate.

Servius Fudge reflected on his dislike of Winston Churchill as he waited impatiently in the Prime Minister's office. He had lost two friends at Gallipoli and knew the Prime Minister's views on Iraq, Gandhi, and the widened franchise. Fudge regarded Churchill as a narrow-minded, self-serving war-monger who had no business being an MP, let alone the PM. But he was in Churchill's office on Ministry business and not to offer his political opinions. He reminded himself it was a feather in his own cap to have been selected as liaison to the muggle Prime Minister. He congratulated himself by slipping a half dozen cigars from the humidor on the desk to his own pocket.

Fudge tapped his foot and wondered what was keeping the Prime Minister. Of course, Fudge did not have an appointment and the war demanded Churchill's attention, but he should be able to do some of the work from his office and should have arrived an hour earlier - at least in the wizard's opinion.

The sound of the knob turning caught Fudge's attention. Churchill's distinctive voice could be heard, finishing a sentence, "… what Roosevelt does."

Three men stood in the doorway, surprised to find a visitor in the room. Fudge made a show of looking at his watch, "You're late for our appointment."

"I've no appointment with you," the Prime Minister growled.

The other two men headed for Fudge. The trespasser waved a wand at the pair, "_Petrificus Totalus!" _The two froze in position, unable to move a muscle. With another wave of his wand the door slammed shut behind the Prime Minster, and locked. "Well, I have an appointment with you," the wizard said. "I'm from the Ministry of Magic and-"

"Magic? Poppycock! I don't believe in magic."

"You might ask if either of these two believe in magic."

Churchill wondered why the two had stopped moving. He cautiously approached them, calling their names and receiving no response. He peered into their faces. "What did you do? Are they…"

"They are quite all right, and will start moving in about fifteen minutes. I know you're a busy man, but I want at least that much of your time."

"What is this Ministry of Magic nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense," Fudge said, and gestured to the Prime Minister to take his place behind the desk. "Wizards have been here as long as there are records. We're as English as you are. I dare say most of us are more English than you are."

"Leave my mother out of this."

"We have been advisors to kings and prime ministers. I am here to inform you of our existence and to introduce myself. My name is Servius Fudge and I have been appointed liaison between yourself and the Ministry of Magic." He offered his hand to the Prime Minister, who did not shake hands with the trespasser.

"I think you're an elaborate practical joke set up by those two," Churchill nodded in the direction of the men standing still. "And it's not appreciated. There's a war on."

Fudge sighed; this would not be as easy as he had hoped. He considered several things he might do, but Churchill would dismiss them as part of a joke. If he cast a _Wingardium Leviosa _spell on the chair the Prime Minister would look for wires or claim he had been hypnotized to imagine the chair flying. If he transfigured Churchill into a toad, a very attractive proposal, Fudge wasn't sure if Churchill the toad would remember the experience, and the fact it probably required kissing him to break the spell made the option even less attractive. Fudge sighed and wondered if this one might work.

"Why am I in a dress?" the Prime Minister asked.

"It belonged to her late majesty. I borrowed it from the Victoria and Albert."

"But, how did you-"

"Magic."

"I don't believe in magic."

"Says the man wearing one of Queen Victoria's favorite mourning dresses. Even that doesn't convince you?"

"No," Churchill grunted, "but I'll allow for the possibility you're telling me the truth."

"Thank you," Fudge replied. "I am here to tell you of the wizarding world's desire to help in any way we can and give you instructions on how you may contact me."

The Prime Minister looked at his two aides, frozen in place, "Can you teach our soldiers how to do that?"

"Actually, no. Some people have the gift of being able to do magic. Some do not. I fear that muggles, our term for those without the ability, can not be taught to perform magic."

"What can you do? Could I send wizards out with the army? Could you freeze an enemy army? Could you knock German bombers out of the sky?"

"Well…" Fudge hesitated, "yes and no."

"Yes and no? What sort of an answer is that?"

"Back in the days of Merlin and some other wizards who served kings we took a very active role in battles. We played a large part in the Hundred Years War. I'm afraid that some of the carnage of the Thirty Years War must be blamed on wizards. While representatives of the various nations met at Osnabrück to draw up the Peace of Westphalia the wizarding community met at Avignon and swore oaths to never again actively take a role in muggle wars."

Churchill raised an eyebrow, "Not take _active_ roles?"

"There is debate about exactly what that means, some think it allows greater latitude that others."

"And there are wizards from other countries?"

"Yes. If we were to use magic in a visible way I think the German wizards would take an even more active role in supporting Hitler."

"You say the German wizards are supporting Hitler?"

Fudge hesitated again, "There is no proof of that, at the moment. But we think it possible."

"France? Poland? Czechoslovakia? Stalin?"

"We are in communication with French, Polish, and Czech witches and wizards. One of the things we can do in an unobtrusive way is to gather information and communicate in ways which can not be intercepted by any enemies. The Russian wizarding community is currently in a state of collapse. They favored the Whites during the civil war and Stalin has sought to destroy them. We are difficult to root out entirely, but the most of the Russian wizards are in seclusion."

"Not that Russians would do any good. As dangerous as Hitler, maybe worse. Unsecured communication channels to individuals with an unknown level of trustworthiness the best you can offer?"

"It is not the best we can offer," Fudge snapped. "I listed it as one way in which we would help our country. We will serve in the trenches like we did in the last war. We will serve in medical units - as we have for years. Those with second sight will-"

"Second sight?"

"Some are given the gift of seeing parts of the future. Some of us have other gifts. The Ministry wishes to assign three wizards to the unit guarding you. If the German wizards did send an assassin your regular guards would be as worthless as these two," he waved a hand at the still frozen men. "We can work in espionage, we have other ways to offer aid. And if the Germans land on English soil I dare say the wizards shall be there fighting on the beaches. But unless the Germans land on our beaches, or the German wizards are caught openly working for Hitler you should pray to God the wizards stay out of the fighting. There will be enough carnage and bloodshed without our help."

The Prime Minister sat quietly for a moment. "This is a great deal to think about…"

"I know that, Sir."

"You said something about letting me know how I could contact you."

Fudge passed the information on to the Prime Minister, who offered his hand to the wizard as Fudge prepared to leave. As they shook hands Fudge remembered, "Oh, a word of warning. Try and keep Ultra secret."

Churchill's jaw dropped open, "You know about Ultra?"

"Well obviously."

"How many? That's highest level of secrecy!"

"Yes, Sir, it is. But we know how to keep secrets. We will not make any slips of the tongue and let the truth out. I hope you learned your lesson on Russian code-breaking."

The Prime Minister frowned and Fudge kicked himself as he threw a pinch of floo powder and disappeared into the fireplace. He was not there to criticize Churchill for his past mistakes, he was there to establish a good working relationship with the man, it was what their country needed.

_"We shall fight on the beaches," _Churchill thought._"I like that line. Need to use it in a speech."_

Fudge reflected it would increase his own importance at the Ministry, and cement the primacy of the Ministry in the wizarding community. There were still a few holdouts who recognized the remnants of the old Wizard's Guild and questioned the authority of the Ministry. The Ministry working with the government during the war would… Fudge felt vaguely ashamed of himself for seeing war as something to advance his own career. Too many had died in the last war. He would rather have been transformed into a muggle and given a job emptying dustbins than wish a war on his nation. He wanted his children to grow up in a world where there was real peace.

* * *

Anticipating an attack on Britain, the government launched another evacuation and between June 13 and June 18. Tens of thousands of children were returned to the country from London, and thousands more from other large cities. With the German navy ill-prepared to face the British navy the Germans required complete domination of the air to make any hope of an invasion possible. The early Luftwaffe forays across the channel were relatively small, too small to establish the air superiority Hitler's armies required.

The station was crowded with children, each with a bundle of clothing or a suitcase. Cards pinned on the children recorded their names. They carried postcards addressed to their homes which would be mailed as soon as they had a place to stay. Aide workers handed out box lunches.

The cacophony of departing trains, government officials yelling instructions back and forth to each other, children making all the noises children make, and mothers weeping and calling to their children from the other side of the gates was almost deafening.

The officer in charge frowned as a man in some sort of lavender robe glided up to him. "I'm the billeting officer for Hogsmeade."

"Then why the bloody hell aren't you in…" The government agent looked at his list of destinations for departing trains. "What is Hogsmeade?"

"Small town to the north. I'm here to accompany the evacuees."

"Then you stay there and don't add to the confusion here. We'll send them to you. And there's no Hogsmeade on my list of reception points."

"Yes, well that's why I'm here. I-"

"Julian!"

"Uncle Julian!"

A woman in a green garment and a group of children pushed their way towards the officer and the man in lavender - who waved to them. Julian Pilliwickle turned back to the government agent. "I am escorting these children to relatives and will take two hundred children in total."

The government official caught the eye to two policemen. "What is this woman doing here? All parents are to be outside the gate."

"Sorry, Sir. No idea how she got in here."

"Well get her out."

"I am not leaving," the woman in green told them firmly. "Not until my Myrtle and the other children are on the train."

"You'll leave now," one policeman told her firmly, "or I'll drag you off."

"I'm not leaving."

The policeman took her firmly by the arm, and couldn't move her.

"What's wrong," the second policeman asked.

"Little help here, Mate," the first requested. "Heavier than she looks."

The second policeman took her other arm. Both were visibly straining. And Charity Pilliwickle didn't move a fraction of an inch.

A third policeman came to help his comrades. He took hold of the woman's waist, and accomplished nothing along with the other two.

"It's quite hopeless, you know," Julian commented to the government agent. "My brother says that when his wife makes up her mind she is completely immovable."

The government official's face was purple with anger, "This is absurd. I have a job to do and-"

"And you will not get it done by arguing with me or my sister-in-law," Julian told him. "Here is the copy of my paperwork. I am trying very hard to escort evacuees to a designated reception point and you are keeping me from it. Call your supervisor if you have any questions."

The government agent almost dropped from apoplexy, "BLOODY HELL, MAN, I-"

"Watch your language," Charity told him sharply. "There are children present."

The man glanced down and noted the children. He then closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten. "Honestly, Julian," Charity complained, "are all muggles this incompetent?"

He did not know what a muggle was. He had always taken pride with the efficiency with which he accomplished the tasks given him - and he had been chosen for this thankless and impossible job because of how well he handled thankless and impossible tasks. He counted an extra ten. When he opened his eyes he told two of the policemen to make sure the man in lavender received the full contingent of evacuees his village had been assigned, and see that the woman in green left the station.

"Come along, children," Charity told the Diagon evacuees. "Myrtle, watch Cedric and tell him to stop picking his nose. Augusta, please take Millicent's hand."

The policemen led the Hogsmeade contingent to a crowd of children waiting to be placed on trains. "How many ya takin'?"

"Charity, how many are here from Diagon?"

"Thirty-one."

"Well then," Julian mused. "Since we're to receive two hundred in total I need another one hundred and seventy-nine."

"Excuse me sir," a girl with brown hair and sallow complexion standing at the edge of the group said, "but you mean a hundred and sixty-nine."

Julian took offense at the effort to correct him. "I can count, you know. Three and seven make ten. So one hundred seventy nine with thirty one equals two hundred."

One of the policemen looked thoughtful, "She might be right."

"Nonsense, she's a child."

"You add the last digits, Sir, and carry the one," the girl explained.

"Leave math to adults," he told her. "Now, as I was saying, we-"

"She's right, Uncle Julian," Myrtle told him.

"Will you stop interrupting me? Look, I write the numbers down on the paper and…" He looked at the young girl. "It is very rude to correct your elders. You need better manners." He turned back to the policeman, "One hundred sixty-nine more children, if you please."

To Julian's displeasure the girl who corrected him was among those placed in his care.

An hour later the frustrated government agent noted one of the policemen he had assigned to the Hogsmeade evacuees. "Did that odd man get off with the children?"

"The odd man… The man what was here in lavender?"

"Yes. I sent you with him to see he departed and to get that woman out who was not supposed to be here."

"You sent me?" the policeman asked, clearly puzzled.

"Yes, I sent you!" the agent snapped. "You and Gordon. You left here with them."

"I don't remember that, Sir. Maybe you have me confused with another officer."

"Where have you been!"

"Well, Sir, I was here when that peculiar group was makin' all the trouble and… and…" He hesitated and glanced at his watch, "I don't right remember where I went. I'm not sure what happened to me."

The government agent cursed the police officer for being a fool and then, having no time to waste, returned to his job. He was conscientious enough to make a note and later verified with the office in charge of evacuees that the children sent to the mysterious Hogsmeade were reported to have arrived safely.

The children assigned to the Hogsmeade train were fortunate in many ways. Most of the trains departing London were filled with children squashed tightly together. At reception points along the way a certain number of children would leave the train, until gradually there was room enough for the remaining children to travel in comfort. The Hogsmeade train was an express and didn't suffer from crowding.

At sixteen Augusta Madley might have stayed with her family in Diagon until the start of Hogwarts, but for safety her mother wanted her to spend the war with her aunt, Victoria Oliphant, in Hogsmeade. Her cousin, Alice, had sent an owl saying the family would take in an evacuee and begging Augusta to find someone pretty and sweet-tempered. There was a common perception that muggle children were dirty and poorly behaved. Augusta walked through the train, until she found a girl who looked about Alice's age and who was better dressed than most of the evacuees. Augusta slid the door to the compartment open and went in to introduce herself.

The girl with the unhealthy complexion and ability to add was tall for her age, and some of the smaller children had gravitated to her. She felt as lost and uncertain as any of them in regard to what was happening, but spent her time telling them everything would be fine and they had nothing to worry about.

Six East End toughs tried to hide their fear of the unknown by taking over a compartment for themselves and telling off-color jokes to pass the time as they traveled to their unknown destination.

In another compartment a boy asked his lame older brother for the fourth time if his leg was comfortable. A boy with dark curly hair sat alone on the seat opposite the brothers, but never spoke a word to them, nor did they speak to him.

The Diagon Alley children were seen by the others as somehow special, they knew something about the village where they were all traveling. But other than Augusta the Diagon youth kept to themselves and said nothing about Hogsmeade to the larger group. Most of the London children were frightened by the talk of war they heard from radios and their parents. They were frightened to be sent away from their parents, and frightened of the unknown prospects which awaited them. Several of the London youth had left with Operation Piped Piper, but returned home during the Phony War. A few had stories of how nice their hosts had been. Most really had nothing definite to complain about, separation from their families had been their greatest cause for unhappiness with their hosts. Two had horror stories to tell the others of ill-treatment, and even those who had been treated well had heard of children who had been beaten, poorly fed, or forced to sleep in drafty attics or dank rat-infested basements.

The Hogsmeade station usually only saw such a crowd twice a year, at the beginning and end of the school year for Hogwarts. The weather cooperated for the evacuees that Midsummer's day as the train came to a stop and children began hopping off. A large number of villagers waited to see the children. Many had agreed to serve as hosts. Some were simply curious. It was the largest number of muggles in the village since it had been attacked centuries earlier. At the edges of the crowd a few dour individuals predicted that letting London send the scouring of its sewers to the village would be the end of them all.

The children blinked in surprise at those there to greet them. Some would have not been out of place on any street in London. Others wore garments curiously out of date or fashion. And others made the outlandish attire of the lavender-robed Julian Pilliwickle look conservative for the colors and styles they wore.

The billeting officer pointed to The Three Broomsticks, the most prominent building visible near the station. "Come along children, sorting ceremony in… I mean, your host families will choose you over there."

As they trudged to the public house some children could see the lake behind the crowd of villagers, and the sprawling ruins of some ancient stone building on the other side. Those who saw the school shivered. Surely no one would be sent to that uninhabitable pile of rubble.

The tables in The Three Broomsticks had been stacked in one corner of the room, and the muggle children stood nervously in the center of the room. The Diagon children had been claimed by their friends and relatives, and Augusta Madley had linked arms with the younger Victoria Leffington and asked her aunt to take the girl in.

In some villages across the country the residents simply claimed evacuees in a wild scramble. But the Hogsmeade Evacuee Committee had used a lottery system to assign the order in which villagers would select children.

Pericles Hart nudged the woman standing beside him with an elbow to move her aside so that he could have a better look at the evacuees.

The more attractive children were selected first, but what made a child an 'attractive' choice could vary in the eyes of the beholder. Some wanted younger children, and some villagers preferred older children. Some would only accept boys, and others would only consider girls.

Julian Pilliwickle stood to the side with a clipboard, carefully recording the names of children and host families, and seeing that the postal cards addressed to the parents were collected after being filled out with information on where the children would be staying.

Portia Higgs, elderly and eccentric, claimed the ability to read character. She chose early and picked Shirley Agar, perhaps the smallest child there but a beautiful little girl. "You'll be a right charmer," Miss Higgs said. She stared at another young girl, Judy Gumm, who seemed plain standing near the adorable Shirley. "I've not seen any with talent like you have, come with me." The elderly witch looked the children over, "And I need a dependable girl to help me with those two…" She pointed to Mary Fisk, the girl who knew how to add, "You, child, come along now."

Late in the selection process Pericles Hart took the half dozen rough looking boys out to his farm. Other villagers had avoided the East End lads, but he saw potential in the youths.

The children were selected more quickly than most had anticipated, with many families who accepted evacuees taking more than one. Some who had agreed to accept children began to slip away as the number of children dwindled and they didn't see a child they wanted to host.

A middle-aged couple stood to the side waiting their turn, "We should leave," he suggested.

"We agreed we could take two," she reminded him.

"We said we could take two girls. If you look you'll note there are only boys left."

"We could host two boys."

"We don't know anything about raising boys. We understand girls," he protested. "At least to the extent anyone can understand women."

"You were a boy," she reminded him. "And I'm rather partial to the way you turned out. Certainly you remember something of being a boy."

"Exactly, my dear, and that is why I want nothing to do with them."

"It is our Christian duty, and duty as citizens, to help. I should be very disappointed in you, Aberforth, if I believed you seriously meant that."

"Yes, Ellie," he smiled, and silently hoped that all the children were selected before their number to chose came up.

But the two families with numbers before the Dumbledores had left as the number of children needing hosts grew smaller. And when Julian Pilliwickle called their names Eleanor nudged Aberforth to send him up. There were three boys left. One, a likely looking lad, had steadfastly refused to leave his older brother, whose cane branded him a cripple in the eyes of potential host families. Aberforth appreciated loyalty to family. He would ask the brothers to come home with him. Before saying anything he glanced at third boy. He didn't look English. The dark curly hair, heavily-lidded eyes, and hooked nose said Eastern Europe - perhaps already a refugee from Hitler on top of being an evacuee from London.

The lad looked frightened, unsure if anyone would select him. Aberforth glanced around the room, now largely empty. A couple of Hogsmeade's more notorious gossips were there to watch the proceedings and gather information, and families who had already made selections were talking with friends and relatives, but he saw no one there waiting to host evacuees.

Aberforth turned to the Billeting Officer, "I'll take all three, Julian," he grunted. He was afraid to turn and face his wife; they had agreed to take two evacuees, not three. He should have consulted her first. Julian hastily finished the paperwork and collected the postal cards to send home to the boys' parents.

"Get your truck, lads," he told the boys, who quickly gathered their belongings. The dark boy had a small suitcase and a pasteboard box. Most of the clothing for the brothers had been stuffed in two pillowcases. He finally risked a glance at this wife, fearing a look of displeasure. But when he looked at his wife Eleanor gave him a smile that made up for the extra trouble - at least for the day.

He offered her his arm and she took it, then glanced behind them at the boys. The younger of the brothers struggled with his belongings and those of his older brother. Eleanor gave her husband a look of reproach. "Here, lad," Aberforth sighed, "let me help you with those." He grasped both pillowcases stuffed with clothing in one hand and put a parcel under one arm before turning back to his wife. "Satisfied, Dear?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "I can always count on you to do the right thing. Sometimes you just need a little reminder."

_"Sometimes I'd be happy if a little reminder were all you gave me," _he thought - but wisely said nothing as they left the Three Broomsticks and headed home.

In a few weeks the station would see another crowd as new and returned students arrived for another year at Hogwarts.

The German air raids grew in size and intensity over the summer. On September 7, 1940, the attack on the docks east of London by three hundred and fifty German bombers took the Battle of Britain to a level known as the Blitz.

* * *

The USSR denied the existence of the secret protocols in its non-aggression pact with Germany until 1989. They insisted the supposed protocols were a Western fabrication, part of Cold War anti-Soviet propaganda, until Gorbachev declared that the Soviet Union needed to deal honestly with its history.

England 'winning' the war helped create the popular image of Churchill as a hero for many who survived the war and wrote the histories afterward - very much like the memory of Stalin in the USSR glossed over his other actions to emphasize the fight against Hitler. Many Brits had not voted for him, regarding him as a typical slimy politician, bigot, and man who had made poor decisions - such as the disastrous Gallipoli attack. And his loose talk was blamed for the Soviets learning that England had broken their codes - which caused them to change them.

Some words are simply understood, such as the Victoria and Albert (Museum), (the Palace of) Saint James, Notre Dame (Cathedral), or Guinness (Draught/Original). Guinness Red or Guinness Bitter might need explanation, the word Guinness, alone, requires none.

With help supplied by Poles before the Nazis invaded their country the Ultra project broke the codes used by the Germans with their Enigma machines.

Churchill delivered his, "We shall fight on the beaches," speech on June 4, 1940.

The Railway Regulation Act of 1844 set standards for rail safety and required a certain number of reasonably prices tickets be available. Parliamentary regulations also required a certain number of runs along a rail line to demonstrate it remained in service. Trains sent out to fulfill the requirements were termed Parliamentary trains. Over time, however, some spur lines have become largely abandoned with the Parliamentary runs largely a legal fiction to claim the line remains open.


	2. The Mysterious Village

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books. However, a story set some fifty years earlier will lack major characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as canon checker for Hogwarts 1835. In addition I've used her understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore to shape the character as he appears in this story.

**The Mysterious Village**

As they reached the Hog's Head Eleanor grew nervous. "What are we going to tell them?" she whispered to her husband.

"I told you, they'll hear the truth." He turned as they went in the side door, "Up the stairs, lads, to the very top, then first door on the left. I'll be up in a minute." He turned to his wife, "I'll be down to help open as soon as I'm able." He followed the boys up the stairs. "That's the room," he called as the younger of the brothers hesitated before opening a door.

The three boys sat on the lower bunk. The bunks were new to the room, prepared for the two girls the Dumbledores had planned to take. Aberforth tried to recall the names from the brief introduction and sending off the post cards to the parents. "Elijah?" he asked the older boy.

"Daniel, Sir," the boy with the cane replied.

"I'm Elijah," the younger boy said. "Elijah Flint. He's Daniel Flint."

"I remembered the last name," Aberforth smiled. He turned to the third boy, "Albert… Goldstein?"

"Goldstein, yes."

Aberforth's eyes narrowed and he stared at the boy, "Jewish?"

"Yes, Sir. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me. Just worried. I don't know much about the food things for you."

"Food things?"

"What do you call it… Kosher?"

"Before I left my father told me to eat anything that was put on my plate, and thank God for the meal."

"Your Dad's a smart man. Times like these we all get by the best we can. You three… All of you who arrived today are at a place very different from the places other evacuees are being sent. Some of us here didn't want you at all, worried about what you might see. More of us here thought it was our duty to help any way we could. The plan is to change your memories before you—"

"Change our memories?" Daniel asked, clearly puzzled

"Aye."

"But, that's not possible," Albert protested.

Aberforth smiled, "Do any of you three remember boarding the train?"

The three boys looked at each other. They remembered being on the train. They remembered being in the London station. "Do you remember?" Elijah whispered to his older brother.

Daniel shook his head no. He looked over at the dark-haired boy, who shook his head no also.

"What happened?" the younger Flint asked.

"Magic."

"Magic?" Albert asked. "I saw some magicians on the stage, but they couldn't—"

"They didn't do magic," Aberforth said firmly. "They did tricks. Magic is something real and very different. Get up off the bunk for a minute."

Not sure what was happening the boys did as directed. The man produced a wand from his sleeve and said something none of the boys could understand, then tapped the frame of the bunk. The posts grew, as did the ladder to an even higher bunk. New slats appeared on the third level. The boys watched the transformation with a combination of wonder, disbelief, and fear. "I'll find another mattress and bedding in one of the store rooms," their host promised.

"That's impossible," Albert murmured.

"It's evil," Daniel protested.

"It's not evil!" Aberforth snapped, "and that's the attitude which made some in the town vote against bringing in evacuees." He gestured for them to sit down on the lower bunk again, which the three were swift to follow.

"Many host families will try to hide the truth from the children. I don't think the truth should be hidden. I don't think the truth can be hidden. My damn brother wouldn't share the truth with… Sorry. What I mean to say, lads, is that I believe it is important to tell the truth, to let people know what is happening. I'll be honest with you. And I expect you to be honest with me. If you're living here is Hogsmeade you'll see magic. It's the way we live. You have to accept that fact. You have to accept that we don't want that known. Too many people would want to burn us out."

Albert, the Jewish boy, nodded his head with understanding.

"You aren't going to change our memories?" Daniel asked, his fear and suspicion obvious.

"I don't plan to, no," Aberforth assured him. "But you'll need to respect the customs of the village, and we don't talk much with outsiders. There's many who'll look at you with suspicion. We don't want any trouble up here, and we regard you as potential trouble. Your first words were that magic was evil. Where did you get that?"

"In church, they—"

"What church was that?"

"Methodist, and—"

"And they didn't tell you that the Lord Jesus said to love everyone?"

"Well, yes. But magic is evil."

"Magic is no more evil than a hammer or a saw. Maybe magic is no more than the way some folk can run faster than anyone else. Being able to do something someone else can't doesn't make you evil - but there'll always be someone who's jealous and calls it evil. We're pretty much like anyone else. We've got bad folk who will use magic to do evil. We've got good folk who use magic to do good. Most of us are somewhere in between. But we'll all use magic to protect ourselves from those who want to harm us."

"Wish we had some magic," Albert muttered.

"Now then," Aberforth continued. "Most of us here are wizards or witches. There's a few squibs around – that's a person born into a wizarding family without any magic. Might be a few muggles, that's what you lads and the other evacuees are. Muggles are people who can't do magic, not in the blood. There's some here who think it means you're bad – that all muggles want to burn us at the stake, but I think most of us know it just means you don't do magic. There's a lot of folk who think all the London evacuees are dirty, rude, and ignorant. Think that's true?"

"No!" Elijah answered hotly.

The man smiled and nodded, "You're right. And I want you to give up your ideas about magic and look at people for who they are. Now then, what do you want to know?"

"What is this place?" Albert wanted to know.

Aberforth wasn't sure what he meant. "The village?"

"No, this building. We didn't see the front. It's not like a regular house."

The wizard nodded. "True enough. Public house, called the Hog's Head. The cellar's mine. I have a room where I brew ale and a room where I work on potions. Don't go down there without me. I don't want you mucking about with the ale and some of the potion ingredients are poison. Pub and kitchen take up most of the ground floor. Ellie and I have our room below this - also some rooms to let. Two regulars at the moment but folks come and go - so we put you up here in my daughter Mary's room. She married an American and lives over there. These days it's mostly storage up here, but I'll ask you not to go in that room at the other end of the hall."

"Why not?" Elijah wanted to know.

The wizard looked cross, "That's none of your–"

"You said you'd be honest with us," the Jewish boy reminded him.

Aberforth sighed, "I did, didn't I? 'Sides, warning you will only make you curious. Down the hall, lads." He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket as he approached the door and selected one with a light coating of rust. The lock was stiff from infrequent use and the hinges creaked slightly as he opened the door and showed them a dusty bedroom. "It belonged to our daughter Freida," he told them, his voice cracking. "We've not touched it since…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"But if you can change our memories," Elijah pointed out, "how can we trust what we think we're seeing?"

"Close your eyes. I can't change what you think you feel, walk in. Touch something. Tell the others what you're feeling - test if it's what they're seeing."

"Don't do it," Daniel advised. "He's telling the truth."

"How do you know that?" his younger brother asked.

"Because he wouldn't make the offer unless it was true," Albert answered.

Aberforth jerked his head towards the other end of the hall, "Back to your room. I want to lock up here. Then I want to know who you are. Oh, and I've not told you about the goats yet, have I?"

"Goats?" Albert repeated.

"No, you haven't," Daniel agreed as he left the room he had been warned not to visit.

The Flint brothers were sitting on the lowest bunk when he returned to the room and Albert prowled about the room.

"Wardrobe's empty," the master of the Hog's Head assured them, "also that chest. We packed up anything Mary left to a storeroom. Didn't plan on having three of you – but none of you have much so I think there'll be room."

"Can I set up my crystal set on the table by the window?" Albert asked.

"You have a crystal set?" Elijah asked, clearly excited. "Can I listen sometime?"

The Jewish boy hesitated. "I… guess so," he finally agreed. "But you have to be really careful."

"Crystal set," their host mused, "I'd be grateful if you'd pass on any news you hear."

"Yes, Sir," the Jewish boy answered quickly. The information they'd just received scared all three of the boys and he was anxious to appear useful.

"You can put your things away while you talk," Aberforth suggested, "best settle in as quickly as possible." Elijah scrambled to find places to store what he and his brother had brought with them – in a competition with Albert to get the 'best' places in the wardrobe and chest. "Now then," the man asked Daniel, "what should I know about you and your brother?"

"I… I don't know."

"Well then, tell me about your family." He glanced at the cane the boy was nervously twisting in his hands. "Will those stairs be a problem?"

"I'm slow, Sir, but I can manage the stairs."

"From birth, or…"

"An accident, I broke my leg badly. We couldn't afford a good doctor. Leg didn't set right."

"Sorry. Now, what part of London you from? How much family? I think you said Methodist… Kirk here in Hogsmeade is Presbyterian."

"There's a church here?"

"We're not heathens, boy, we're wizards and witches."

"I didn't… Sorry. We're from Clerkenwell. Dad's a carpenter. Mum took in washing. They wanted us to be safe."

"We all want to be safe," Aberforth murmured. He turned to the Jewish boy who was putting together a much-worn clarinet to testing to see if it had suffered damage during the trip, "And you, where you from?"

"London."

"I know the train came from London. Where you from?"

"Sorry, Hendon."

"You really are from London?"

"My grandfather left Russia to avoid getting drafted into the Tsar's army. He wanted to get to American, but ran out of money. My father was born in London."

"Oh… I… Brothers or sisters?"

"I have a baby sister. My mother wouldn't let her be evacuated, said she was too young. My father wants to send them both to the country as soon as possible."

"Looks like you play that thing a lot," Daniel said – pointing at the clarinet.

"It was second-hand," Albert blushed, "maybe third-hand. My father didn't approve, but my mother bought it for me. I like swing music. I play The Tiger Rag very well."

"But not too late," Aberforth warned. Then he remembered, "Not too early either. Got a lodger right now who sleeps during the day… We'll need to decide where and when you can practice. Now then, do you have more questions for me?"

The boys had a thousand questions. If they had not seen the bunk change they would have thought their host a madman. They had not ruled out the chance it was an elaborate trick of some sort – that seemed easier to believe than magic. But if his claim were true they wanted to be very careful and not anger him. After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence Aberforth coughed softly and brought up an uncomfortable subject. "Lads, I said I'd be honest with you."

"Yes," Daniel nodded.

"Well, I also told you there were some here who didn't want evacuees. The council warned all the hosts not to use magic in front of you. That won't work. Magic is too much of who we are. The other evacuees will find out what I've told you. You'll play with the other evacuees… You'll be going to school with them in a month or two. I'd like you to keep your eyes and ears open, let me know if—"

"You want us to spy on the others," Albert interrupted, the anger clear in his voice.

The wizard was taken aback by the boy's tone. "No… I… Well, yes and no. I want to know all the children are safe. Magic can be frightening. If a boy or girl discovers what this place is they need to be reassured they're safe here… Should be safe here. I might be asking you to spy on the other children, but more than that I'm asking you to spy on the hosts based on what the others say. If they talk about something one day, and then can't remember it the next they're probably under a memory charm. A few of us on the council want to make sure no evacuees suffer any harm while here. I told you, we aren't any worse than muggle-folk – but we aren't any better either. You've heard of children who've been mistreated by host families?"

The boys nodded.

"We don't want any of that here. And when you can change someone's memory to try and hide the abuse a person who wants to do evil has even more chances. If you see or hear anything that gives you concern you come to me or Ellie. Or you can go to Portia Higgs… You know who she is?"

"No, Sir," Elijah spoke up.

"Do you remember the old woman who took the two little girls and that tall, pale girl?"

They nodded.

"That's Portia. Good soul. Julian Pilliwickle?"

"Who's he?" Albert wanted to know.

"Billeting officer, the man who brought you here."

"Oh, him," Elijah answered.

"Aberforth!" Eleanor's voice came up the stairs, "time to open. I need you down here!"

"In a minute, Dear," he shouted. He turned back to the boys. "He's the village postmaster and a Poo-bah–"

Elijah didn't understand, "Poo-bah?"

"Mikado," Albert explained, "Gilbert and Sullivan. He held a lot of positions in the town."

"Correct," their host nodded, "He suffers from an exaggerated sense of his own importance, but he's a good man. He'll do anything to keep you evacuees safe. Now, I've got to go downstairs. You three settle in," the man suggested. "You take the bottom bunk," he told Daniel. " I'll find another mattress after supper. Come down when you're able."

Victoria Leffington had a very different introduction at the Oliphant household. "You'll share a room with Augusta until school starts," her hostess told her. Augusta held herself slightly aloof from the younger evacuee and her cousin Alice, but Alice was thrilled by the style and amount of clothing that Victoria had brought with her from London. Vickie did not like the idea of sharing a room, but accepted it as a necessary evil.

Victoria found the Oliphant home curious, with odd furniture and the contents such as clocks and pottery reflecting eclectic and eccentric tastes. Her own family was moderately well off, her father owned a small factory manufacturing prams. During the Depression, however, demand had been down. With the nation preparing for war his company had managed to obtain a lucrative contract to make instrument panels for the Blackburn B-24 Skua. Victoria had wanted her father to find an expensive place for her to stay for the duration, and his insistence she evacuate with other children was one of the few times he had denied her whims.

The London girl thought her host family quaint and very backward. She knew, in theory, they were not there to serve her but she tended to treat everyone around her except her parents as if they were there to serve. Her parents were there to provide gifts, in her opinion. With her attention focused on herself it would be almost a week before she noticed the signs of magic in the village that other children saw much sooner.

The three girls who went home with Portia Higgs found themselves in a large house with many sparsely furnished rooms whose dust testified to neglect. Despite the fact that Mary and Judy were very close in age Mary's height created the impression of a greater age difference than really existed. The impression gave Mary her own room, while the two other girls shared a room.

Mary feared, correctly, that she had mostly been chosen to serve the younger girls and their hostess. But Portia was a woman very set in her ways and, while she intended to use Mary for a variety of household tasks to hide the use of magic, it was always easier to tell Mary to go watch the other girls for a moment and do the chores with magic. Mary realized the unusual nature of the household quickly, but kept her mouth shut. Her hostess would send her away, and when she returned more work would have been done than seemed humanly possible in the amount of time allowed by her absence. At first she was only grateful and curious for the not being called on to work around the house. Talking with other evacuees, some of whom had seen things they could not understand, made Mary watch her hostess more closely. Without anything ever being said directly the elderly witch and Mary fell into a working arrangement which included magic in the household tasks. Mary would sometimes even pretend to work in the kitchen while Portia spent hours at the piano in the parlor with Judy and Shirley, then the witch would finish meal preparation and allow Mary the credit. Mary did not understand how Portia accomplished what she did, the girl only knew that the woman could finish difficult tasks in no time at all.

Eventually Mary entered the kitchen quietly one morning for a glass of water and found Bleeker, the house elf, preparing breakfast. Her scream awakened everyone in the house and caused poor Bleeker to drop a plate. Portia told the younger girls to go back to bed, Mary had simply dropped the plate and panicked when it broke. The younger girls seemed to accept the explanation and returned to their room.

"There was a creature here!" Mary said as soon as the two left.

Portia considered using a memory charm on Mary, then reflected the girl had the good sense to not contradict her in front of the Shirley and Judy. The woman thought as she gathered the pieces of broken plate and placed them on the counter by the sink. Portia had intended to never use magic in front of the girls, but decided honesty might be the best course of action, she pointed her wand at the broken bits of pottery, _"Reparo." _The pieces of plate joined back together to Mary's wonder. The girl was still staring when Portia explained, "The creature you saw? That was my house elf, Bleeker."

"House elf?"

"Yes, child. Bleeker? Come out."

The door to a pantry usually locked opened cautiously and the odd looking creature peered out.

"Mary, this is Bleeker. He did not mean to frighten you. Bleeker, this is Mary. She did not mean to frighten you."

The house elf bowed. Mary was not sure how to respond.

"I'm disappointed in you," Portia said sternly, "I told you to be careful not to let the evacuees see you,"

"Sorry, Mistress," the elf groveled.

"Well, it can't be fixed as easily as the dish. Fortunately Mary has a good head. From now on I'll ask you to obey her like you would obey me."

"Obey me?" Mary asked in wonder.

"Yes," Portia told her. "Bleeker grew too old to serve at Hogwarts… Oh, Dear, I'll need to explain that… It starts next week." Mary had no idea what started next week, but remained silent and let the elderly witch continue. "He's been here since he left the school. If you see something that needs done around the house Bleeker will try to help you."

"I… Why doesn't he have real clothes?"

"It's the nature of house elves."

"Can I make him something to wear? I can sew."

"When you give clothes to a house elf they think you don't want them to work for you."

"That's silly."

"I didn't make the rules. That's the way it's been. I–" Portia turned to the nervous house elf. "These muggles don't understand house elves. I asked if you would obey her, but you know she is not your mistress, correct?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well, if she gets a notion in her fool head to sew up something for you she has done it without my permission and I'm not asking you to leave. I think you're doing a fine job and don't want to sack you."

"Thank you mistress."

Over the summer the London children formed their own circles of friends among the evacuees as they played. Some of the groups included Hogsmeade children delighted to have more children in the village, while other local children kept themselves aloof from the muggles. Victoria Leffington was called 'Princess' behind her back for her clothing and manners, but envy was as great a factor in the name. Mary Fisk, who had not yet adjusted to her growth spurt was clumsy at games and resigned herself to being chosen last.

Several of the girls among the evacuees wished that one local boy would spend more time with them. Hollyhock Evans, who Alice Oliphant simply called Holly, possessed eyes a shade of green none of the children had ever seen before. Holly seemed almost a feral child, disappearing into the forest the evacuees had been told to avoid and often returning home with a hare, trout, or other game for his mother.

"He's very handsome," Vera sighed. Vera was allowed to join the circle around Victoria and Alice based on her ability to agree with the two.

"Tolerable," Vickie deigned to reply.

"He's nothing special," Alice sniffed. "I don't even think he can do magic. He's not at Hogwarts. Wait until the school starts. Tom Riddle is better looking."

Victoria wasn't sure what school Alice was talking about, or the meaning of Hogwarts, or what sort of students might be coming to the village, and she quickly returned to telling the others about the places she had visited in France before the war, which she enjoyed even more than playing games.

The six boys taken to the Hart farm had less time for play. The two hired men Pericles Hart had employed both enlisted at the onset of the war. Even with magic it took work to run the farm and he saw evacuees as a chance to get work in return for providing a place to stay. The six boys, however, had spent most of their lives dodging work of any sort and regarded the barrel-shaped farmer with scorn.

"You'd best be splittin' wood if you want to stay warm this winter," he told them the day they arrived as he showed them to a large shed-like room built against the barn. "Now then, what're your names?"

Edward, the ringleader of the group, spoke quickly, "Richard. You can call me Dick." He grinned at the others.

One of the Georges, the smallest of the lot, who could always be counted on to follow Edward spoke next, "My name's Richard. You can call me Dick."

Alan grinned at the joke, "My name's Richard. You can call me Dick."

The other George, Cedric, and Richard all introduced themselves in the same way.

"That'll make it easy," Pericles grunted. "I'll just call Dick when I want you all. But right now," he pointed to Edward, "You're Blackie." He pointed at the tow-headed Alan, "Whitey." He jabbed a stubby finger in the direction of one George, "Squints." The second George received the title Rabbit for his prominent front teeth. "And you're Porky and Bones," he told the last two. He didn't need to point out which of the two was which.

"Porky and Rabbit, come help me with the horses. Rest of you settle in. Whitey and Bones will help bring in the cows after supper. We eat at six."

"I'm not working on a farm," Whitey objected.

"You want to eat?" the farmer shot back.

"Yes."

"Where to you think food comes from?"

"Comes from the grocer."

The farmer laughed, "I hope you're not all that stupid. I thought it would six of you could do the work of two men. But if you think food just grows on store shelves like a turnip you don't have the sense of one man if you put all six of your heads together."

"You can't make us work," Blackie insisted.

The man's eyes narrowed, "Boy, you have no idea what I can and cannot do. And you don't want to find out. Porky, Rabbit, I told you. Come with me."

Neither boy moved.

The farmer turned red with anger and he grabbed them each by the collar and lifted them off the floor – no small feat in hefting Cedric. _"Aperire!" _he ordered, and the door opened. He walked out carrying both of the young men.

"How'd he do that?" Bones asked in wonder.

"Lifting them or opening the door?" Squints demanded.

"Both."

"It's a damn trick," Blackie assured them. "He can't make us do anything."

At six o'clock Pericles shouted, "Dick, Supper!" and the London youth ran to the house. Two of the boys had never seen so much food on a table and one grabbed for an apple.

"Not until after grace," Alice Hart warned, and gestured for them to sit at the table. Unaccustomed to prayer before meals two of them grabbed food and began eating when the others uncomfortably bowed their heads and closed their eyes. When Pericles looked up from his wife's prayer he resolved to keep his eyes on the boys at the next meal.

"Sorry there is so little," Alice apologized. "What with rationing and all I couldn't prepare a big meal for you."

"This isn't a big meal?" Rabbit asked, astonished at the claim.

"Not enough meat," the farmer grunted, "Don't know how a person can get work done on short rations."

As the meal ended Pericles told the boys to remain seated as his wife cleared the table. "Fair is fair," he told the boys. "I'll pay what you're worth. Right now you aren't worth much at all—"

"Pay? Money?" Porky asked.

"Aye, wages. But I expect you to earn—"

"Really?"

"I'm no liar," the farmer retorted hotly.

"No, Sir, I…" the boy fell silent.

The boys had no experience with any sort of work, and resented the early hours on the farm. On the third day Blackie managed to persuade three of the others to join him and they tackled the farmer. The four ended up bruised and the worse for the attack.

Despite the attack Pericles doled out some money at the end of the week to five of the six.

"This isn't money," Whitey protested, the first of the boys to receive the unfamiliar coins.

"It's money you can spend in Hogsmeade," the farmer assured them. "Or I can give you British money – but you can't spend that here."

Most of the boys preferred British money, and Blackie received nothing for not having worked at all. "They pay you something for keeping us, we don't have to do anything," he argued.

"Your stipend doesn't even pay for the food you eat," the farmer told him. "You need to do chores."

Porky received a bonus, to which the others objected. "Why does he get more?" Bones wanted to know.

"Because he worked harder than the rest of you." It wasn't clear if Porky had done any more, but Pericles felt the chance of a bonus would bring out a competitive streak among the boys.

Blackie did nothing the second week either, while Whitey received the bonus for working the hardest, for the very reason the wizard had hoped.

"New rule," Pericles told them. "One what does the least during the week will spend the next week mucking out the horse stalls and the cow manure in the barn."

"Like hell I will," Blackie protested.

"Clean each night before supper – or you won't eat."

Blackie spent two weeks without lifting a finger during the day. But after one night without supper he shoveled manure when the others refused to bring food out to him. After two weeks of shoveling manure he started doing just enough in the way of chores to try and insure Squints or Rabbit had to muck out the barn.

After the initial show of anger the farmer and his wife tried to use no magic around the evacuees, but when the six talked with the other London children they began to hear about the nature of the village there was another confrontation. The second confrontation remained verbal, with the farmer glad he could now use magic freely. The boys had wondered if Pericles might have been one of those squibs other evacuees mentioned, but after seeing the man use a wand the boys felt slightly frightened at the idea of being turned into toads. Late in the summer Blackie displayed a talent and interest which brought him into the good graces of Alice Hart. He could jerk a gnome from the ground and throw it further than any of the others and was put in charge of keeping the family garden free of weeds, gnomes, and other pests.

Long before the six east-end toughs were 'persuaded' to work on the Hart farm the three evacuees at the Hog's Head began helping their hosts, neither out of fear for the wizard's magic nor for the promise of a reward, but because it seemed right to them. A widow, Mrs. Spigot, and two young women had worked at the Hog's Head, but one of the younger women had left for a job in a war-related industry and with the exodus of many of the younger witches and wizards to the armed forces the Dumbledores had not been able to find a replacement.

Their hosts were grateful for the help the boys offered. The goats took to Daniel. His younger brother worried about his lame brother, but the animals appreciated his slow and gentle ways. Elijah and Albert helped around the pub, serving customers and collecting plates and glasses to take to the kitchen. Albert seemed as much a natural in the pub as Daniel with the goats. "My family ran taverns before grandfather left for England," he explained.

Early one afternoon the Hog's Head was empty except for a pensioner slowly nursing a pint to delay returning home to his wife, Mrs. Spigot reading a novel behind the bar, and Elijah Flint sweeping the floor clean in preparation for the dirt to be tracked in that evening. A thin boy, probably about fourteen, entered the common room. "Can I help you?" Elijah called.

The stranger ignored him and addressed the widow, "Where are the Dumbledores?"

"Mr. Dumbledore is in the cellar," Elijah began – but the boy continued to ignore him, "do you–" Fortunately Aberforth, who had been in the cellar, opened the door before the muggle could finish.

"Argus," he called cheerfully, "what can I do for you?"

The thin boy nodded politely, "School starts next week. Mum would like some rat-be-gone."

"Aye, that time of year. Let me pour some out for you." Aberforth turned and went down to the cellar again.

"What school's starting?" Elijah asked.

The boy called Argus ignored him.

A few minutes later Aberforth could be heard clomping up the stairs. He handed a demijohn over to the strange boy. "Your mother usually sends a house elf."

Argus looked shocked, glancing at Aberforth and back to Elijah, "The mug– The evacuees," he reminded the proprietor.

"They're here for the duration. I say we're better off telling them the truth than a string of memory charms."

"I hope the war last long enough for me to enlist."

Aberforth almost slapped the boy, but took a deep breath instead and realized he shouldn't punish the boy for patriotism. "And I hope it doesn't. The longer it lasts the more good men dead… Now then, send the jug back when you're done. I'll put the potion on the school's tab. I know your mother remembers how to use it."

"Please, Sir, she says I can put it out this term. Can you remind me, just to be certain?"

"One cup of potion in a small cauldron. Spread 'em out every seventy-five yards or so. Let the cauldron boil dry. Stay away from the fumes as best you can."

Argus listened closely and nodded to show he understood.

"The jug's heavy. And if you were too worried about secrecy to send an elf I'm sure you didn't fly. Will you be able to carry it back?"

"Yes, Sir."

Aberforth nodded, "Good lad. Well, use a hover charm if it gets too heavy for you."

Argus Filch took the demijohn and left The Hog's Head for the long trip back to Hogwarts. The school year would start soon. He hated the students and their abilities. It would be another year of hiding his own lack of magic. Another year of the girls ignoring him. Another year of students treating him like a house elf; merely someone to do their bidding and making fun of him for not being enrolled in the school. He wanted to leave Hogwarts. Being shot by Germans would be better than the abuse he endured from the students who ridiculed him. He sighed and shifted the heavy jug. His mother needed him. The months between the end of one school year and the start of the next, when the halls of Hogwarts were empty of students, were always the happiest time of his life.

The day after Argus Filch obtained the rat-be-gone Albert was in the main room clearing glasses from the tables when the door opened. He shrank back in horror as a huge figure stooped and turned sideways to squeeze in the door. The roughly dressed man, the largest the boy had ever seen, crossed the room to a bench near a window, sat down, and pulled a clay pipe from a pocket. After knocking out the dottle onto the floor he pulled a leather pouch from another pocket and refilled the pipe, then lit it from a candle on a nearby table – filling the room with vile smoke. He drew a couple puffs on the pipe, blew a smoke ring into the air and bellowed at the man behind the bar, "Abe! Where's my tankard, you Publican and sinner?" He then turned his attention to the cowering youth, "You, boy, who are you?"

"Albert, Sir," he answered with a trembling voice.

"One of them evacuees?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What in the bloody Hell are you doing here in—"

"Watch your speech, Ogg," Aberforth ordered as he filled a large tankard that probably held a half gallon. "He's a good lad. And if you pull any of your, 'Fee-fi-fo-fum,' nonsense on him or the other lads you'll be asking the Three Broomsticks to give you credit, because you won't be getting any more here." He carried the ale over to the huge man.

"I was just having a bit of fun with the lad," Ogg said to justify his words.

"Well, it's not fun for them. They're strangers in a strange land up here, scared for their families, and they don't need a brute like you–"

"I'm no brute!"

"Then don't act like one."

"Time for a game of backgammon?" Ogg asked to change the subject.

"Let me see if Ellie needs me in the kitchen… Give me fifteen minutes to finish there and see if any paying customers need anything—"

"I pay… Well, I'll pay off my tab some day."

"Haven't see you for awhile," Aberforth commented as he shook the dice cup half-way through the game.

"Busy. Lot of work to do before fall term."

"Argus was just in for rat-be-gone."

"Aye. Peculiar lad."

"Says he wants the war to last long enough that he can enlist."

"He'll get his wish," the huge man grunted. "Lot of seventh year wizards not coming back this fall, some sixths gone too. Heard some witches joined the WAAFs."

"Not surprised."

Business picked up and Aberforth returned to his post at the bar. The large man found other backgammon partners. Albert refilled the large tankard part way through the evening. "And don't spill a drop on the way back," Ogg threatened.

"Is he dangerous?" Albert whispered as Aberforth filled the vessel.

"Who?"

"That big man."

"Ogg? No. He's like his dog… If you look out front you'll see a big hound that'll growl at you. Scratch old Beelzebub behind the ears and he's your friend for life. Ogg wouldn't hurt a soul… Unless he catches you poaching on the school grounds. Then he'll tan your hide."

"School grounds?"

"I guess it's time to tell you the truth about that too. Hogwarts starts next week."

Aberforth's mention of a school and use of the word Hogwarts was less interesting than the huge man. "Is he a wizard?"

"Ogg? No. He's about as different from a wizard as you can be."

"He's a muggle?"

"No. Ogg is… Well, we don't really have a name for it. He's almost immune to magic. I could cast any number of spells or curses or charms on you, and they'd all work. Hit old Ogg with a spell or curse and it doesn't do a thing. I wouldn't test a killing curse on him, but I've heard of all sorts of curses or spells rolling off him like water off a duck's back. There're been stories of one or two others like him, but it's rare. Don't know if it's a curse or blessing, but you won't see his like again."

Albert hoped that would be true.

The next morning Eleanor explained to the boys that First Night would happen soon, the opening ceremony for Hogswarts. She and her husband took the boys on a walk around the lake. Ogg came out of a small cottage, perhaps more of a hut, as they rounded the water. "You shouldn't be here," he called.

"We want them to see the truth," Eleanor called. The large man gave a resigned shrug in the face of the madness of the Dumbledores and returned to his home.

As the five drew closer to the ruins the building began to look differently. The jumbled pile of stones and shattered walls flowed together and a huge, and very complete, building stood in front of them.

"Hogwarts?" Elijah asked.

"Aye, and in a few days the train will be filled with students arriving for the fall term."

* * *

Crystal sets run on radio waves and were a common form of early radio receiver. They had no speakers, but one person could listen to the set with headphones. You can still order make-your-own sets from various sources.

Britain instituted the National Health Service in 1948 in the belief that all citizens deserve access to good health care.

Clerkenwell and Hendon are part of greater London. At least I wasn't so stereotypical that I had the Jewish boy coming from Golders Green.

Designed in the mid-30s the Blackburn B-24 Skua was retired from production in 1941, at which point the Leffington factory would have made instrument panels for the de Havilland Mosquito.

The WAAF, Women's Auxiliary Air Force, was the women's auxiliary to the Royal Air Force. It was started in 1939.


	3. Mystery Children

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from JK Rowling's Harry Potter books. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as my canon checker for 1835. In addition she furnished her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

**Mystery Children**

"First Night's not what it was, even when I was a lad," Aberforth sighed. "I hear that graduates used to fill the village to catch up with old friends and hear the news of new students in the houses–"

"Houses?" Daniel asked.

"Four houses at Hogwarts. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Named for the founders of the school. Parents brought their students to Hogsmeade before the train. When the train came in the trip didn't seem so necessary. Most parents of first years were still at Hogsmeade for the sorting when–

"Sorting?" Albert interrupted.

"Aye, the ceremony where the new students are assigned a house. There were parties all over the village for the parents that night. Anyway, as I was saying, when I started it seemed like all the parents of the first years were here. Now days most send their youngster off by himself or herself.

All of the evacuees had heard of the students who would be arriving. Several of the children who either lived in the village or who had arrived from Diagon, such as Augusta Madley, were students. Some of the younger children still didn't understand the real nature of the village and wondered where the new students would live and study. Many of the older children had gone around the lake to gaze on what appeared to be ancient ruins, and while Ogg and Beelzebub had scared away most of those who came too close some of the more bold had ventured close enough to see the building in its true form - and others had learned enough to believe the stories the Hogsmeade children told them of the wizards' school.

In the great scheme of things, however, the evacuees were more interested in their own school year. The evacuees, smaller children of Hogsmeade, and some of the older children who didn't attend Hogwarts would soon begin their own lessons. The number of evacuees meant the church building had to be drafted to serve as the school building for the duration.

In the days before the students arrived for Hogwarts, faculty who lived outside Hogsmeade or had been on holiday returned. Professor Lovegood, who taught astronomy and returned to his family home at every opportunity, and Whilhamina Grubbly, who had just been hired to teach courses related to magical creatures and was in her probation year, had rooms at the Hog's Head. All of the shops in the village put in such new stock as they were able under the wartime restrictions in preparation for the students arriving. Much of the village's economy rested on the school.

The Flint brothers and Albert were warned that some professors would arrive by the fireplace in the Hog's Head public room. The warning made no sense to them. Five times over the next few days the fireplace flared and suddenly wizards or witches stepped out of the flames. How anyone could travel by fireplace still made no sense, but at least the boys understood the warning. Other staff and faculty sometimes stopped at the Hog's Head, but the Three Broomsticks was considered the more 'respectable' public house and usually had more business from the faculty of the school.

"I saw Albus in the village today," Eleanor commented at supper. Her husband said nothing. "I said I saw Albus," she repeated.

"Who's Albus?" Elijah asked.

"He teaches at the school," Aberforth said quickly. "And I do not want his name mentioned at the table. Bad enough we have to talk of Hitler and that lot. Not good for a man's digestion."

"His brother," Eleanor told Elijah.

"And he will not be mentioned again during a meal," Aberforth said sternly.

Despite Aberforth's claim that First Night wasn't what it used to be, all the guest rooms at the Hog's Head were reserved, although at the last minute two of the parents sent owls saying they had decided not to stay.

"They didn't leave because of us, did they?" Daniel asked as the evacuees ate a hurried dinner with their hosts while Mrs. Spigot watched the bar.

"No, lads, it wasn't you," Aberforth assured them.

"Then why?" Elijah wanted to know.

"That's not your concern," he told them.

"You said you'd always tell us the truth," Albert reminded him.

"I'll tell you the truth about me. I'll tell you the truth about anything that concerns you. I don't have to tell you the truth that isn't your concern," he answered harshly.

"Abe," his wife chided him. "I know you're upset about losing the customers. It's not the boys' fault. We're not short of money."

"Ignorance makes me angry. If they'll not stay here because of ignorance I say we're well rid of them."

The boys all looked puzzled, and Daniel spoke, "I don't understand what you're saying. But if it doesn't concern us I'll try to accept–"

"I won't!" his younger brother objected. "I want to know what's happening."

"Mr. Puddlestone is ill, dear," Eleanor told the younger boy, "and that's why–"

"Is it contagious?" Albert wanted to know.

She hesitated before answering. "Well, not normally, but–"

"There's no danger," Aberforth said firmly. "Wouldn't let him stay here if it were a problem. Now drop the subject."

Elijah did not want to drop the subject. He wanted to know what the problem was with the lodger who slept all day. "What's wrong with Mr. Puddlestone?" he demanded.

"Shush," his brother whispered in an effort to stop him.

"They'll probably hound poor Alexander until they find out," Eleanor told her husband.

He hesitated, "This is your fault," he told his wife. Then he addressed the boys, "Mr. Puddlestone is a vampire."

Daniel looked like he didn't believe the news. Albert looked puzzled, and the youngest boy looked fearful.

"And that's why I didn't want to say anything," Aberforth sighed. "People get upset for nothing. You can't catch anything by knowing him."

"He doesn't look like a vampire," Daniel remarked, the skepticism showing in his voice.

"And how should a vampire look, Dear?" Eleanor asked the boy.

The boy blushed, "Well, in the films–"

"The cinema?" Aberforth snorted. He looked at his wife, "Who was that actor in the American film we watched?

"I don't remember."

Aberforth turned back to Daniel, "That what you think a vampire should look like – All foreign and dressed up in a monkey suit with a cape?"

"Well… Yes, I guess that's how I imagined… I mean, I didn't really imagine there were–"

"Like you didn't imagine there were wizards and witches."

"Yes, Sir," he admitted.

Alexander Puddlestone was short, with mousy brown hair that was thinning on top and his eyes magnified by thick glasses. Aberforth looked at Albert, "Think you can tell a Jew by looking at him?"

"No," the boy declared emphatically.

"Most vampires don't want to talk about their problem. People hate 'em worse than Jews, and with no better reason. There are some bad ones around, I won't deny it, but most of 'em just want to live in peace like the rest of us."

"But what does he eat?" Elijah wanted to know.

"Ever noticed the little keg I keep below the bar?"

The boys' faces wrinkled in disgust. "It's not… human, is it?" the youngest boy asked timidly.

"No. Animal, from when a farmer slaughters something."

"Doesn't it dry out or something," Albert asked.

"I have a potion, George Fletcher calls it an anticoagulant, that keeps it liquid."

Elijah still looked disgusted.

"George Fletcher," Daniel asked. "Have we met him?"

"No. He's an apothecary down south. Been his family trade for years. He's up every now and then for some potions and to watch a game out at the school."

"What kind of a game?" Elijah wanted to know.

Aberforth glanced at the clock and shoveled in the last mouthful of food, "I'd best be relieving Mrs. Spigot," he mumbled as he rose from the table.

* * *

In the morning Ogg rowed across the lake, towing a string of boats behind him.

"Why is that… that man bringing the boats?" Victoria wanted to know.

"The first years at Hogwarts always row over the lake when fall term begins," Alice told her.

"But why?" Victoria repeated.

"Because they do. It's the way it's always done."

"That's not an answer."

"Yes it is. There're lots of things we do because that's the way we always do them. I wish they would use the carriages for the older students."

"Carriages… With horses?" Vera asked. Two or three large horse-drawn wagons were lined up by the Hogsmeade station to bring the students' trunks to Hogwarts.

"Carriages without horses," Alice answered.

"Oh, automobiles," Victoria said cheerfully. "My father has two. I haven't seen an automobile since we got here. I was starting to wonder–"

"Not automobiles," Alice assured her. "This isn't like anything you've seen… But Mama says that the muggles shouldn't see them."

In the mid-afternoon a small boy who had climbed onto one of the wagons waiting to carry the trunks shouted that he saw the steam of the locomotive, and seven minutes later the train came to a stop and young men and women began hopping from the train. A number of men from the village helped unload trunks from the train, and load them onto the wagons. Two of them grumbled about doing the work of house elves and complained to each other they should simply use a memory charm on all the muggle children - or should have ordered them all kept indoors.

The Hogwarts students had been alerted to the presence of the evacuees, but were still curious about actually seeing muggles in the village. Living in Hogsmeade had taken a little of the curiosity from the evacuees, but they were still eager to see the new faces. Augusta felt relief at being able to leave her aunt's home and return to the school

Two of the new arrivals attracted much of the attention. One was a third year, tall for his age, with dark hair and an aristocratic manner that belied the shabby clothing he wore.

Alice nudged Vera and Vickie. "That's Tom Riddle. Isn't he handsome?"

"He's very poorly dressed," Victoria sniffed.

"He is very handsome," Vera agreed.

"And I hear he's very smart," Alice told them. "He's going to be a very powerful wizard."

"He's still very poorly dressed," Victoria remarked.

The other arrival to draw attention was easily the tallest of the new arrivals, standing well over six feet tall. Despite his size his face was childlike and he stood with the smallest of the children to arrive, nervously twisting his hat and looking ill at ease. A wizard, much shorter than the boy, stood with the first years and kept a comforting hand on the huge boy's back. Finally, realizing he was only succeeding in embarrassing his son even more, Tullius Hagrid said a final word of encouragement and left to see if the Hog's Head had a room for the night.

A short time later Ogg caught sight of the large boy and went over to the group, causing many of the smaller children to back away in fear. "Rubeus Hagrid?" the gamekeeper growled.

"Yes," the tall boy answered.

"Keep your nose clean. Study hard. I don't ever want to hear you accused of starting trouble. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," the huge child answered quickly.

"Good," the big man grunted and addressed the group of youngest students. "You'll be rowing across the lake at sunset. If you need anything at Hogsmeade you'd best get it now."

Augusta Madley had scanned the faces of the students getting off the train and wondered how she could have missed seeing Richard Longbottom. While the train was loading milk and eggs and unloading some mail and packages – mostly for the evacuees – she raced through the cars, hoping he had fallen asleep and not realized the train had arrived. A blast of the whistle warned her to jump from the train before it began. She frowned as she joined the students who had left the train, then saw Minerva McGonagall, who might have an answer. "Min! Where's Richard?"

"You didn't hear?"

The question irritated Augusta. She thought Richard Longbottom should keep her informed of all his movements and she didn't like to beg information in this manner. "Hear what?"

"Joined the navy. You didn't know?"

"I…"

"Honestly, from what I hear they'll need to put all the seventh years together to have enough for a respectable class."

Augusta was grateful for a change of topic so she didn't have to admit her ignorance. "How many are left?"

"I think there are only three wizards and eight witches all together."

"I've been here in Hogsmeade," Augusta told Minerva, in part to explain her lack of knowledge about Richard – although he could have sent her an owl, "what's happening in the City?"

"The bombing is getting worse… How much of that do you hear about?"

"Not much. If it weren't for the evacuees you could almost forget the war here. Tell me about the bombing."

"All right… But let's get some biscuits at Evans' Bakery first. I think I miss the bakery more than Hogwarts… Have you heard if old Binns and Merrythought are still teaching?"

"Yes," Augusta nodded glumly as the two headed into the village. "I swear, they'll have to die before they hire someone new."

An hour later the returning students began the walk around the edge of the lake to the school. They grumbled at not being allowed the use of the carriages or brooms for the trip.

Despite his youth Tom Riddle appeared to be the leader of a small group of Slytherins who clustered around him for the walk to Hogwarts. His two closest syncopates, the fourth year William Avery and fellow third year Marian Lestrange, flanked him. Avery's size had brought him the nickname of bear, while Marian answered to Ferret. The prospects for their house's quidditch team was the focus of conversation.

"The war has taken a toll on everyone's team," Ferret pointed out. "What'll it mean for Slytherin? Can we win this year?"

"Of course," Tom laughed. "But we need to think of next year too. Get the youngest players we can for this year and it'll improve our chances for the next two years. We need a house meeting. I'm going to suggest Bear for captain–"

"Mad Queen won't like that," Bear muttered, "with Hooks gone off she'll think the job's hers."

Tom shrugged, "She's a fine keeper. Slytherin needs a captain who'll be around a couple years. We need to think of the future, right?"

Those around him nodded their heads or murmured assent.

"Ferret, you need to try for seeker–"

"Yes!" the third year exclaimed happily.

"I said try out," Tom reminded him. "You might not make it, but we know you're good. The idea is to field the best team we can, and if there's a better candidate we all should support him, but I think you can do it. Bear, I think you're ready to be senior beater, will Humpty-Dumpty be ready for junior?"

"Still a bit rough, but he can be ready by our first game."

Tom addressed those around him, "We've only got DB as a chaser at the moment. Who do you think shows potential?" Several suggested Tom himself, and some urged him to try for seeker. "No," he laughed. "I'll try keep honors as top of my class—"

"You'll do it easy," one of his friends assured him.

Riddle smiled, "I hope so. But we want to win the quidditch cup for Slytherin. I'm flattered, but I think Ferret here would make a better seeker."

Several names were put forward. Tom listened, looked thoughtful, and then pointed out why the particular witch or wizard would not be a good candidate.

"How about that Prince girl?" someone suggested.

"She's only interested in gobstones and potions," Ferret snorted.

"Not Eileen, her little sister."

Riddle looked thoughtful, "She should try out."

"But she's not one of us, neither of 'em are," Bear pointed out.

Tom patted his large friend on the back, "Of course they are. We're all Slytherin. We're the best house here. We don't want to win the cup for ourselves, we want it for Slytherin – show the other houses why we're the best. Eileen always takes first in potions, that's good for Slytherin. Besides, even if they aren't in our circle of friends now they might be someday. We should always be willing to expand our circle of friends."

Quidditch was second only to the war in conversation as the returning students walked around the lake. The loss of most seventh year students and even a number of sixth year students created gaps on all the teams and gave other students hope for playing on their house teams.

Minerva McGonagall kept her lips compressed and talked less about quidditch on the walk around the lake than she would have liked. Augusta Madley's cousin, Lucretia – the seventh year keeper for Slytherin – had joined them and Minerva feared saying anything which might give another team insight into Gryffindor's chances.

* * *

Tullius Hagrid was at a table in the Hog's Head with three other nervous parents anxiously awaiting news from the school on which houses would receive their children. Shortly after dark a smiling Alexander Puddlestone entered the public room, "Drinks for everyone! I just got a job!"

"What will you be doing?" a wizard called.

"Night shift supervisor at a ball bearing factory in Coventry. Start next week."

"Got your food situation squared away," Aberforth asked cautiously, in case there was anyone present unaware of his guest's condition.

"Yep. Found a butcher who has a few other special customers."

"Well, good luck to you."

A few more drinks helped the parents survive the next hours. "When will the damn house elf get here?" one wizard grumbled as he ordered another mug of ale at the bar.

"Probably not a house elf. Keeping 'em at school 'cause of the evacuees. It'll be the Filch boy. Ought to give him some kind of a tip when he arrives."

The wizard continued his grumbling as he returned to the other parents.

"Was there a raven that sometimes reported the sorting?" a witch asked nervously to make small talk as they waited.

Roger Gray laughed, "Munin was his name. Worked for a couple of my ancestors… Or we worked for him. Heard he always wanted a sickle for bringing the news. He'd probably demand a galleon now."

"I'd pay it," Tullius Hagrid assured them. "I just want to hear my Rubeus is in a good house."

"And what do mean, 'a good house'?" the witch demanded sharply.

"Any house," Tullius admitted, "just want to know he'll be happy."

Argus Filch went to the Three Broomsticks first, then came to the Hog's Head with news that Rubeus Hagrid had been placed in Gryffindor, as had Basil Gray. The son and daughter of the witch and wizard who had waited with them were both in Ravenclaw.

Lessons for the evacuees and Hogsmeade children began to clear the streets of the village during the day. Noisy games were still played after school, but routine began to give a sense of a return to normalcy.

* * *

After class one day Daniel Flint told his brother he planned to stay to ask questions about math, and suggested his younger brother go back to the Hog's Head without him. Elijah ran through the village. The young witch was watching the bar. "Where's Mr. Dumbledore," the boy panted.

"Downstairs, brewin'."

The boy knocked on the door.

"Eh? Who is it?" their host's voice came up from below.

"Elijah, Sir, can I talk with you for a minute?"

"Only if it's important."

In the young boy's mind it was. He opened the door and went down the stairs. The large space at the bottom was cleaner than he had imagined, but then he reflected that an area for brewing should be kept clean. "Sit there on the bottom step," Aberforth suggested. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"Could you use a memory charm on me?"

The wizard looked puzzled, "Are you asking if I used a memory charm on you?"

"No, Sir. I'm asking if you would, please."

The master of the Hog's Head stopped what he was doing and went to sit by the boy on the step. "You want me to erase a memory?"

"Yes, Sir, if you can. I mean; you can pick what memories to erase, right? Someone took away the memory of us getting on the train – but we still have our other memories, don't we?" He suddenly looked suspicious, "Can you put in false memories? Did someone give me false memories?"

"Not that I know of," Aberforth assured him. "Can be done. That's why I asked you lads to pay attention to the other children. Too many memory charms can cause problems. Makes a person seem not right in the head. But what does a lad like you want to forget? You're too young to be unhappy in love."

"No, Sir. I'd like you to make me forget how Daniel broke his leg."

"Pardon me?"

"It was my fault," the boy blurted out, and started crying. "Dad was working on a house, and I was where I shouldn't have been…And I got… And Daniel… It was my fault."

Aberforth felt uncomfortable, but recognized the need to do something, and put an arm around the boy's shoulder. "Daniel was injured trying to help you?"

"He did help me! And then the board broke and he fell, and…"

"And you want me to take that memory from you?"

The boy nodded. "I feel so terrible."

"Does your brother remind you of what happened all the time?"

"He never says a word. But I know. I know and I feel bad every day."

The two sat silently at the bottom of the stairs for a couple minutes before Aberforth spoke. "Do you remember that room down the hall from you? The room I said you boys were not to touch."

Elijah looked puzzled, "Yes…"

"I told you that room had belonged to my daughter Freida. You can't know what it's like to lose a daughter. There's a pain that cuts to your heart, that eats at your gut every day when you remember."

"Why don't you have someone do a memory charm?"

"The only way to take away the hurt would be to take away her memory completely. I'd lose the day she was born. I'd lose the day she first called me Dada, and her first step. I'd lose chasing butterflies with her and going to London to help her pick out a wand… Those memories make the pain worse. But I won't give them up."

"I don't want to forget Daniel. I just want to forget how it was my fault!"

Aberforth was silent for a minute, "No, lad. You need to know your brother loves you–"

"I know he loves me!"

"You need to know he loves you enough to put himself in peril for you. And I won't have you resenting him."

"How could I resent him?"

"I see you watching out for him. Taking on burdens because he can't do something, staying with him when you want to run ahead. You may act out of love. You may act out of guilt. You may act out of a bit of both. If I take away the memory he'll seem a burden to you. You'll resent him–"

"I could never resent him!"

"You would, lad. Sadly, you would. It's our natures. I'm not saying you're any worse than the rest of us. We're all that way. I'll not help you with the memory charm. You need to remember your brother's example of selflessness."

"He wasn't selfish!"

"Selflessness, not the same as selfish. It means he was thinking about helping you instead of staying safe himself. He's a good model for the rest of us."

Elijah did not like the answer he had been given, but had learned that once their host made up his mind on a subject he did not like to change it and the boy knew he would have to accept the answer. And while the village of Hogsmeade appeared a sleepy place in comparison to the hustle of London there was enough going on at all times to keep the boy from brooding more over his problem than he already did.

* * *

Tod Browning's Dracula, with Béla Lugosi in the title role, was released in 1931. It would have been a year or two until the Dumbledore's saw it, but certainly enough time had passed for them to forget Lugosi's name.

I don't hold stories hostage for reviews. And I recognize last weekend was Easter which affected hits. But the sheer number of characters I have in this story makes things confusing and worries me. I'd like feedback on whether this deserves continuation.


	4. When Worlds Collide

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to Hogwarts and the village of Hogsmeade. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as my canon checker for my previous story. She furnished her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore, which I use as his background in this story.

**Worlds in Collision**

As the bombing of London grew heavier the first word of a community death reached Hogsmeade. While telegraph and telephone lines connected most villages with the larger urban centers in Hogsmeade official notification arrived by train.

Julian Pilliwickle turned the envelope over in his hands, fearing the contents and hoping he was wrong. While he felt no compunction against opening letters sent by the children – justifying censorship as necessary in a time of war – he felt no such freedom to open the wire. As he looked at the envelope he regretted serving as Postmaster, the first time he had experienced the feeling. A high number of wizards had gone into the Royal Air Force, their experience flying kept them from the vertigo some experienced in the air and helped them comprehend that enemies could also attack from above or below. But it didn't protect them from bullets.

Julian's job as postmaster had always been relatively easy, most of the villagers used owls to stay in touch with their relatives. The presence of more than a hundred muggle children, most of them writing postal cards to their parents and receiving letters and parcels kept him busy. Two or three children talked of magic regularly in their letters. He used magic to change the offending sections into reports on the weather.

"Honestly, I don't know what to do about those children," he complained at a meeting of the Evacuee Safety Committee in the kitchen at the Hog's Head

"Do you want me to speak with them?" Daniel suggested.

Julian looked reproachfully at the youth. He held that children should be seen and not heard, and the less seen the better, and felt that Aberforth was out-of-line to invite the boys staying with him to the meeting.

"What would you tell them, Dear?" Portia Higgs asked.

"This is a secret place, and we don't want spies to tell the Nazis about it."

"We should consider memory charms," Julian suggested.

"Can't be doing that every week, Julian," Augustus Plank, the last member of the committee commented. "I say we should give the boy a chance."

"Fine," the Postmaster sighed, "but I want you all to remember I was against it if things go wrong."

"You're on record," Eleanor assured him. "But we have another item of business. Albert and Elijah report a boy who seems very confused at school. I think we need to investigate conditions where he is staying."

"Who is the boy?" Julian demanded.

"Thomas Worthington," Albert spoke up.

Julian looked thoughtful, "Hmm… With the Stepfords." He turned to Portia and Augustus, "Do you think we should—"

"Yes," Portia interrupted.

"Now," Augustus finished.

"Very well," Julian agreed. "Let's go there now."

"Do you want Ellie and me to go with you?" Aberford asked.

"No… Unless you don't trust the three of us."

"I trust you fine. Let me know what you find."

Julian stopped by the Hog's Head later than night for a half pint. "The Worthington boy is now staying at the Plank farm."

"So I should thank Elijah and Albert for their report?"

"I've told you, I don't think muggle children have any business sitting in at our meetings."

"You have said that… And tell me, when do you think we'd have found out about the problem?"

Someone calling for another drink distracted Aberforth, to Julian's great relief.

Churchill still had not made up his mind on the so-called wizards. Servius Fudge had supplied him with two pieces of information of obvious value, but the Prime Minister could not rule out it was simply a ploy to gain his confidence. The Ministry of Magic also said they confirmed three reports of value, and discounted one as an error. The fact they offered these strategic evaluations without being told the information in the original reports suggested they had a supernatural ability, but could also have been a part of an elaborate subterfuge relying on highly placed German spies in his staff. Fudge had also given him reports which could not be confirmed that claimed to present information from witches and wizards in various parts of Europe. Although the reports could not be confirmed they seemed to agree with every other piece of news hitting Churchill's desk. At the moment the German army seemed to enjoy success in all its endeavors with neutrals either being quietly allied with Germany, like Spain, or allowed to remain neutral because Germany found their neutrality in its own interest.

An undercurrent of excitement had been running through the Hogsmeade children that the evacuees did not understand. When questioned the locals replied that the first quidditch game would be played soon. Since that meant nothing to the evacuees they asked what quidditch was. Some of the local children offered descriptions to the children from London – which made no sense at all when the evacuees who heard descriptions compared notes. Other Hogsmeade children simply answered, "You really need to see the game played to understand it."

On a sunny Saturday morning early in September virtually all the children of Hogsmeade, both local and evacuees, ate their breakfasts quickly and trooped around the lake. Many carried old blankets or small rag rugs to sit on.

They were met by Ogg and his large hound who ordered them all to turn around and go home. But the local children knew he was not as fierce as his appearance suggested – and besides, there were too many of them for him to stop – so the group simply flowed around him to a piece of ground just east of the quidditch pitch.

"I can't see anything but those hoops up on the posts!" Victoria Leffington complained.

"There's nothing to see, yet," Alice assured her.

"Well, when there is something to watch I shan't be able to see it," Vickie told her haughtily.

"Yes you will," Alice smiled. "They play it in the air."

The Dicks arrived a little later than the others, the Hart farm being further away from Hogwarts. Pericles had told them not to worry about chores that morning, he'd take care of things himself. He knew they needed time with friends, and also thought that his own willingness to do extra work when necessary would be a good example for them.

Hollyhock Evans, who sat by Whitey in school, sat with the Dicks and explained the game.

"The fat man said watch the bludgers and beaters," Squints said. 'The fat man' was the Dicks' term for Pericles Hart when there was no chance of him hearing them. "What're them?"

"Bludgers are metal balls that fly through the air and–"

"Like bullets?" Rabbit asked.

"No," Holly assured him. He held his hands apart, "They're about this size and–"

"What'da mean, flies through the air?" Bones wondered.

"It's part of the game. They fly all random – like Blackie trying to answer history questions. They can hit anyone–"

"Even us?"

"No, they're enchanted to stay in the quidditch pitch, but they can hit other players. So the beaters have clubs and they try and control the bludgers. If you're a good beater you keep the bludger from hitting the players on your team. If you're a really good beater you can knock a bludger into an opposing player, maybe knock him from the game."

The Dicks grinned, that sounded like fun.

"Is that the game?" Whitey asked. "Beaters knocking those things back at each other?"

"No. See those hoops?" The Dicks nodded. "Each team has three chasers, who try to put the quaffle – that's a leather ball about this size," he held up his hands, "through the hoops. Each team has a keeper in front of their hoops to try and stop the chasers. And there's this little thing called the snitch that flies around. One player on each team, called the seeker, tries to catch the snitch. Game is over when the snitch gets caught."

"Sounds too complicated," Blackie complained.

"It sounds strange," Holly admitted. "You have to see it played. It's like a battle in air."

A few minutes later there was a blast from a whistle and the bludgers were released into the air, followed by the four beaters. The evacuees gasped in wonder. Some of them had seen wizards or witches on broomsticks already, but this was the first time for many of them – and the first time they truly realized the nature of the village to which they had been sent for safety.

The children outside the pitch could not see the release of the snitch. As the beaters kept watch on the bludgers the keepers assumed their positions in front of the hoops while the chasers circled in the middle of the pitch.

"Seekers stay on the ground until the second whistle," Alice told Victoria.

"What second whistle?"

The muggle girl received her answer in a minute when a man in green robes rose over the players, lofted a leather ball into the air, and blew a whistle as it started to fall towards the ground.

"Who's playin'?" Porky demanded.

"Two of the houses at the school, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. The games probably won't be very good this year – everyone lost a lot of players because of the war. Don't know what the games will be like. Some people say they've got the two best keepers this year, but both teams have so many new players I don't know what'll happen."

In a group of girls Alice nudged Vera, "Tom Riddle is in Slytherin, we should cheer for them."

"Which one was he?"

"That handsome one," Alice reminded her.

"The poorly dressed one," Victoria added.

"Oh, is he playing?" Vera wanted to know.

"No, but it's still his house team."

Hufflepuff's keeper was probably equal in ability to Slytherin's Mad Queen, but Slytherin's chasers had a clear edge and Slytherin eventually gained a small lead, but it never grew large. In the beater position the Hufflepuff senior had more experience than Bear and managed a few attacks on Slytherin players, but the Slytherin junior had more experience than his Hufflepuff counterpart and managed some attacks of his own.

"I wish we could sit closer," Alice complained. "Watching the seekers is the most fun."

After about two and a half hours of play the children saw a player in a Slytherin robe go into a sudden dive. Hogwarts' students watching the game let out cheers or groans as Ferret went for the snitch, which only grew louder as he rose in the air, his right hand with the snitch held aloft as he circled the pitch in a victory lap as the game was whistled over and the beaters wrestled the bludgers to the ground.

On the walk back to the village the Hogsmeade children proudly displayed their supposed knowledge of the intricacies of quidditch to the evacuees, none of whom were a position to contradict the claims.

Portia Higgs called an emergency meeting Evacuee Safety Committee. "I had tea with Mrs. Wells, and she reports that the boys staying with the Harts have been shamefully irregular in attending school."

Aberforth frowned, "They were those boys I didn't think anyone would want to host…" He turned to Daniel, "I think some of them are in classes with you?"

"Yes, Sir," the boy nodded. "We call them the Dicks, they all told Mr. Hart that their names were Richard and—"

"Yes, yes," Julian interrupted. "The facts, please. How are they doing in school?"

"Well, Rabbit, he's one of them, is doing very well. But they all miss a lot – they're probably absent half the time or more – and Porky said, he's another one of them, said that Mr. Hart is happy to let them stay out on the farm."

Augustus Plank frowned, "Well, I'm not happy about that. Portia, do you want to come out with me and Julian?"

"I'd rather Aberforth went with you. I can't abide that toad…" She turned to the muggle boys, "Has Aberforth told you about memory charms?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Albert answered quickly.

"You will forget I said that or I will forget it for you. Is that clear?"

"We don't remember what you're talking about at all," Daniel assured her.

"Good lad."

"Abe?" Augustus asked.

Their host nodded, "Aye. We might as well take our brooms. I think all the children were at the quidditch game… Say, Julian, any problems with the children who were writing home about magic?"

"No, I…" The postmaster turned to the Flint brothers and Albert. "Um, thank you for addressing our concerns."

"You're very welcome, Sir." Daniel responded.

"Ah, yes," Julian continued. "I think we should call on Pericles immediately, but Lord knows what we'll do if we have to take that lot away from him. I don't think anyone else would want them."

"We don't say that to Pericles," Aberforth warned as the three men left the Hog's Head.

Aberforth requested the presence of the Dicks when the committee confronted Pericles and his wife.

"I don't know what the fuss is about," the farmer protested. "As long as you can cipher enough to know a profit from a loss you've got the education you need. They've already had more time in school than I've ever had." He turned to the boys, "Any of you have a problem with missing some days of school?"

Three instantly shook their heads 'no', and two joined them a little more slowly. One boy did not join in the affirmation.

"You," Augustus asked the boy who had not joined the others, "what's your name?"

"They call me Rabbit."

"You don't like missing school, Boy?"

"Er," he looked nervously at the others, "I, uh, don't need school."

"Yes you do," Julian told him firmly. "You all do. Skipping school is not an option. You are not here for an education. You are here for your safety. But it is the duty of our village, while you are staying here, to see that you receive an education."

Aberforth noted a slight sign of relief from the boy called Rabbit, and perhaps in the other two boys who had seemed less willing to insist school was unimportant. "You doing chores here on the farm for Mr. Hart?"

"Yes," one began as two others answered "Yeah," and three nodded 'yes.'

"I pay 'em. I pay 'em fair," Pericles interrupted.

"Would they know fair?" Aberforth shot back. He addressed the muggles, "The committee can remove you from your host family if we think it proper, or if you ask. You would probably not be able to stay together if we needed to find new places for you, but you will not be allowed to stay here if your education is neglected. You've been here a few months now; do you want to stay here?" He glanced quickly at Augustus and Julian, who nodded in support to his question. Pericles opened his mouth, "Don't say anything," Aberforth warned. "We want to hear the opinion of the boys."

The Dicks looked to Blackie, who had been their leader even before the evacuation. Blackie had to think fast. He did not like the fat man, or chores on the farm. He knew that Whitey and Porky were both happy here, and enjoyed the bit of money they were making. Bones and Rabbit were harder to read, he could not be certain if they'd support him on a move or not. Even Squints might desert him if Whitey asserted himself in opposition to Blackie and the others followed him. They were likely to be broken up as a group, and there was no guarantee they wouldn't end up with chores just as wretched with the next host. "We'll stay here," Blackie told the committee. The smiles of the other boys told him his decision had been welcomed.

The relief was evident on the face of the Harts.

Aberforth turned to Pericles, "They're willing to stay. Do you understand they need to be at school faithfully?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

Aberforth addressed the Dicks, "And you understand that also?"

They nodded.

Julian looked at Augustus, "Shall we accept that promise?"

"For now… We'll need to ask at the school to see if they are attending more regularly."

Blackie breathed a sigh of relief as the three men left; it appeared his position as leader among the group remained intact. Pericles also breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, lads," he mumbled.

"I think you need to reward them," his wife told him.

"Reward?"

"Let them take the wagon over to Little Easley on Friday for the cinema."

"Little Easley?" Whitey asked.

"Cinema?" Blackie echoed.

"Closest muggle village. It's about seven miles from the farm. They have a cinema."

"But, Dear—" Pericles objected.

"Now, boys, there is no school on Saturday, but you shouldn't stay out too late. And don't talk about Hogsmeade."

"People would think we're crazy," Rabbit laughed.

"Exactly," Alice agreed. "They don't know much about Hogsmeade, they think we're a bit odd over here. Oh, and Pericles needs to give you a charm to help you find your way back. There are some _confundus_ charms on the village to make it harder for muggles to find the place.

Pericles kept his thoughts on his wife's generosity to himself until the two prepared for bed. "The Dicks are still wild. I'm worried they'll steal the wagon."

"And where could they go? You can follow them if you're worried, but we need them to help on the farm. If we trust them they'll sense it and work better."

"If we trust them they'll sense it and take advantage of us."

"We'll see."

"We certainly will."

Without mentioning their thoughts to the others two of the boys did consider taking the wagon. If they could have driven it to London in a day they might have tried. But they had no good sense of how long it would take to get to the City, or even exactly where London was and abandoned the idea. And on Monday they discovered that having been to the cinema conferred a special status on them. Little Easley had little to offer which could not be found in Hogsmeade, except for the cinema, but it was still different and having the freedom to drive themselves somewhere made the Dicks special. Everyone wanted to know about the film they had watched and what Little Easley was like.

The trip also had the benefit of reassuring all the evacuees that they were not prisoners. The willingness of the witches and wizards to let them travel outside the village demonstrated the good will of their hosts.

The only dissatisfaction with the report from the Dicks came from Victoria Leffington, whose nose was badly out of joint at the fact the ragged East-Enders had enjoyed a privilege she had not been allowed.

"How do we get to Little Easley?" she demanded of Alice.

"You take the road out to the Hart farm, then you keep on going for—"

"A ride. How do we get a ride to the cinema?"

"I, uh, well, we aren't allowed to ride brooms so—"

"I can't ride a broom! The Dicks said they rode in a wagon. We need a carriage or something."

"I don't think my mother would give us money for—"

"I don't care about the cost. Mummy will send me money. Can we—"

Alice's eyes lit up, "You want me to come too?"

"Of course. We'll ask Vera to come with us."

In London the Leffingtons drew sighs of relief at Victoria's demands for funds. It meant their daughter was back to normal. And the reference to Little Easley also brought some peace of mind when they were able to find it on a map, their efforts to locate Hogsmeade having always ended with failure.

"I wonder if Hogsmeade is how the locals refer to North Easley," Victoria's mother asked her husband as they studied the map.

"That sounds possible," her husband agreed. "I'm quite certain you're right."

There was a small crisis at the Higgs residence when little Shirley Agar insisted that none of them ever eat meat again. Thus far the little girl had never drawn a connection between the rabbit hutches which could be found behind most of the homes in the village and the meal on the table at the end of the day.

Most house elves were quite useless for butchering creatures, Portia had never liked the chore, and Mary had said she would prefer not to kill and dress the rabbits. Holly Evans performed the service for a slight fee – keeping the pelt for himself.

Shirley had been feeding clover to Mr. Whiskers when Holly arrived and Portia called the little girl in for a piano and voice lesson. Mary averted her eyes as she sat on a barrel in the shed while Holly cleaned the rabbit. He was the only boy she could really remember talking with, and she always wished he was not as skilled at the task so they could talk longer. "Have you figured out what you'll do with all the skins you've tanned?" she asked as he wrapped the meat in paper for her and cleaned his knives.

"Not really," he admitted.

"Could I have one to trim a hat? I'm afraid winter will be very cold."

"Probably," he agreed. "Winter being cold, I mean…" He didn't like giving away a pelt, but he had quite a number of them and hadn't found a way they could be used. "I… I guess I can give you one."

"Thank you! Will you bring it to school for me?"

Holly did not want to be seen giving one of his rabbit skins to anyone, especially a girl. "No. I'll bring one over next time Mrs. Higgs has me dress a rabbit."

After her piano lesson Shirley returned to the rabbit hutch to feed more clover to Mr. Whiskers. She did not accept the explanation that Mr. Whiskers had gone to visit friends in another hutch, and learned the truth to her horror. She demanded the end to killing all rabbits. They would only eat meat which did not require the killing of animals – like beef and bacon. Portia explained the fate of cows and pigs to the little girl, who then insisted the eating of all meat be banned forever.

Little Shirley did not eat any meat for almost three weeks, and it was more than two months before she touched a rabbit stew. She no longer went to the hutch to visit the rabbits, having realized one should not develop too close a relationship with one's food.

Saturday, October fifth, saw the second quidditch game at the school. Most of the evacuees joined the rest of the Hogsmeade children, although a few simply found the game too complicated and others chose reading or board games as a better way to spend the morning. The weather did not encourage spectators, a cool day with a heavy drizzle alternating with occasional light rain showers.

"Ravenclaw against Gryffindor," Alice explained to her friends. "Augusta says Ravenclaw lost more of their players than any other house so no one knows what they're going to do this year."

"What about the Griffon Door?" Vera asked.

"Gryffindor," Alice corrected her.

"That's what I said," Vera complained.

"Minerva McGonagall is supposed to be the best chaser at the school right now, and they have an experienced seeker, but they lost both their beaters so the bludgers will be more of a factor in this game than the last one. Roberta Lennox, the Ravenclaw senior, is the best beater at the school right now."

Victoria didn't care much about quidditch, but felt it important to be at the game since everyone would be talking about it later. "Senior?"

"I told you last time," Alice reminded her. "Your best beater is your senior, the second is your junior. You always match senior against senior and junior against junior to try and give your other players the best protection."

Protection was not on the minds of some of the other spectators that morning. They were excited at the promise of mayhem. It was a game that would be remembered for many years to come.

The Gryffindor chasers were superior to Ravenclaws, but Ravenclaw enjoyed a strong advantage in the keeper position. Which team had the better seeker could not be determined. Evenly matched beaters often cancelled each other out and the role of the bludgers in the game was often nothing more than an occasional bit of luck or slight advantage of one beater over another. Neither Gryffindor beater had the skill, strength, or experience to face the Ravenclaw senior. The Gryffindor junior held her own against her Ravenclaw counterpart, but the other Gryffindor players had their play disrupted because of the fear of being struck by an iron ball.

By the end of the game the Gryffindor seeker and one of the chasers were too bruised and battered to be effective in the game, and the remaining chasers and keeper had also suffered blows. Ravenclaw's margin of victory was greater than that enjoyed by Slytherin in the first game.

Following the game the Hogsmeade children and evacuees who watched the game were dosed with Frau Diablo's Patented Warming Potion and were ordered to bed early that night.

Late in October an owl arrived for Aberforth from George Fletcher. The apothecary reserved a room for a few nights in early November and listed potions he needed for his practice. The master of the Hog's Head sent a longer response to his requests than usual.

* * *

Rabbits were not rationed, and raising them was actively encouraged by the war department – which published recipes in addition to posters that could be found throughout the country touting the virtues of curried rabbit, jugged rabbit, rabbit stew, etc.


	5. Potions

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from JK Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. However a story set some fifty years earlier will lack many primary characters from Rowling's works.

Imablack served as my canon checker for my previous story. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

This will, I hope, be the shortest chapter in the story. The first ten chapters or so are mostly written and twenty are planned. As I look at the outline I don't think there will be another one this short - unless I break up one of the monstrous long later chapters into two or three. (While the 1940-41 school year receives more attention than any other year the rest of the war years will be included and the lives of some of the evacuees, witches, and wizards will be sketched up until Lily Evans is attending Hogwarts.)

**Potions**

As usual George Fletcher timed his trip to Hogsmeade, in part, to watch the last quidditch game of the fall term. His old house, Hufflepuff, would play Ravenclaw. He also came, as usual, to renew his stock of some of the potions Aberforth brewed and bring some of the ingredients he raised in his garden and hothouse to the master of the Hog's Head. But on this particular trip Aberforth had requested his professional services.

The wizard looked oddly normal to the boys as he ate his first meal with them in the Hog's Head kitchen. Daniel reflected on how the number of eccentrics living in the village had made what would have been 'normal' in the rest of the country seem a bit unusual.

After supper the boys were sent up to take short naps before the pub grew busy, and the apothecary spoke with Aberforth and Eleanor.

"What did you think?" Ellie asked.

"Can't really tell without looking closer," George admitted. "You say it was broken and badly set?"

"Aye."

"Know how long ago?"

"No. Does it matter?"

"It might. Won't know unless I give it a closer look. You said you didn't want me to say anything, so I haven't."

Aberforth nodded, "Don't want to raise any false hopes in the lad."

"Well it will certainly sound a bit peculiar if I ask him to let me look at his leg without providing some sort of explanation."

Eleanor smiled, "That is certainly true. My husband, who prides himself on telling the truth, will need to explain that you _might_, and we must emphasize the _might_, be able to do something for him. The boys don't have a real sense of what magic can, and cannot, do and sometimes I think they believe we can do miracles."

"No one can do miracles," her husband muttered.

"God can," she reminded him.

"Well, God hasn't done one for the lad."

"Sometimes God uses us as his instruments."

Their guest interrupted the theological debate. "I'm not even certain if I have anything to help him, but let me have a look. Tell the boy I'm not making any promises… Set his expectations low. I don't want him hoping to be fine and then deciding I can't help him at all. I'm not comfortable with this. I should not be treating the boy without his parents' permission."

"Well we can't very well send them an owl and say, 'Oh, a wizard would like to wave a wand and help your son,' now, can we?" Aberforth objected. "Your choice is to help the lad or leave him a cripple."

"He is not a cripple. And a muggle surgeon might be able to help him."

"And when will a muggle surgeon have the time to look at the lad? And when will the family have the money?"

"I need the parents' consent."

"While the evacuees are with their host families we can give physicians permission to help the children. And if we can give physicians and surgeons permission we can give apothecaries permission too."

The boys were not napping. Albert sat at the crystal set listening to the BBC while the Flint brothers lay on their bunks and talked about the letter that had arrived that day from their mother. Elijah felt happy that everything was going well in London, and Daniel worried that his mother might be trying to spare them from hearing bad news. The knock on the door startled all three of them; the Dumbledores seldom ventured to the top floor.

Daniel felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting with his trousers off and a towel draped over his midsection while the apothecary felt his leg and asked questions. Elijah insisted on being present during the examination, which didn't bother the older brother, but Eleanor Dumbledore stood behind George Fletcher and the boy found that embarrassing. After a half hour of examination and questioning the apothecary announced to Daniel, "I believe I can help you."

"Help?" Elijah asked, clearly excited. "Will his leg be fine?"

"Maybe, I'm not making any promises. I've got a spell and a potion… You'll find the first frightening and the second will hurt a bit, but they may leave your brother with a sound leg."

"Hurt?" Daniel asked. "How much will it hurt?"

"A lot less than breaking the bone in the first place. I've not taken the potion myself. I'm told it has a tingling sensation like an electrical current running through you, and a burning sensation. It will be uncomfortable."

"How long will the pain last?"

"Overnight. You shouldn't take any sleeping draughts because they'll interfere with the potion, but I have a spell that will make you unconscious and I'll probably use that as a general anesthesia."

"Anesthesia?" Elijah asked.

Eleanor answered the question, "He'll sleep through the burning sensation, dear."

"The pain will be over when you wake up in the morning," Mr. Fletcher explained. "And your leg will be much better."

The younger brother was excited, "He'll be able to run tomorrow?"

"Oh, he won't be able to run tomorrow. The muscles are weaker in this leg now, because he's been favoring it. Skele-Gro will help the bone. It will take weeks of exercise before he's running again. The potions to help muscles grow have some very unpleasant side effects. Better to exercise to help his leg muscles. He may even need to cane for another few weeks, even if everything works perfectly – and I'm not promising everything will be perfect. But what I've seen tells me he should be much better." The apothecary turned his attention back to Daniel. "I believe I can make your leg better. But the process can be a little frightening, and I won't do it unless you want me to go ahead. You will need to be brave."

"Please, Sir. If you really think it will help my leg, I'd like you to try."

"Why don't you lads come help in the bar while George here works his magic," Aberforth suggested.

"I'd like to stay," Elijah insisted.

"It can be frightening to watch also," Mr. Fletcher warned.

"I want to stay," the younger brother insisted.

The apothecary shrugged, "I warned you it might not be easy to watch, but I've warned you so I won't say no if you want to stay. Let me fetch what I need."

Daniel stretched out on the lower bunk as ordered. Elijah eyed the beaker of steaming liquid George poured out with fear, and it got worse when the man took his wand and announced he had to debone the leg.

Daniel said nothing, but paled at the man's words. "Debone?" Elijah asked.

"Yes. The Skele-Gro will replace the bone that has been set poorly, but I have to take the old bone out first."

"Will you cut me?" a frightened Daniel asked.

"No. No need for that. This spell is only handed down to wizards and witches who practice healing. It will be quite painless, drinking the Skele-Gro will be more of a challenge for you. This is your last chance to stop this."

The older brother took a deep breath and thought a minute, "I'd like to continue."

"Good lad. Now, both of you stick your fingers in your ears. You aren't to hear the spell I'm about to use."

Elijah watched as the man point his wand at Daniel's legs. His lips moved and he walked to the table where the beaker of potion sat. "You can take your fingers out of your ears," he said loudly.

"How do you feel?" Elijah asked.

Daniel still stared at the leg. It didn't hurt, but there was the odd sensation of something being wrong.

"That was the easy part," George told him and handed him the potion. "Drinking this will be the worst."

The warming potion a month earlier had been the vilest thing Daniel Flint had ever drunk in his life up until that day. The warming potion seemed like lemonade in comparison to the Skele-Gro. It burned his mouth and felt like needles sticking into his throat and all the way down to his stomach as he swallowed. The pain diminished slightly, but spread from his stomach out through his body, concentrating on his leg.

"Drink it all before I put you to sleep," George warned.

Praying he wouldn't pass out or throw up Daniel managed to finish the glass of potion. George pointed his wand at the boy, _"Dormire"_ he ordered, and Daniel's eyes closed in sleep.

"He should sleep through the night without any problem," George whispered to Elijah as he put a blanket over the sleeping boy. "But you and that other lad should try and be quiet when you go to bed tonight, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the young boy promised.

The Saturday morning of the quidditch game dawned unseasonably cool. The Dumbledores and George Fletcher were up in the boys' room early to check on Daniel's leg. Elijah had been too excited to fall asleep easily the night before and the sleep of the exhausted was still on him as the adults arrived. Albert was sitting with his headphones on at the crystal set when Aberforth knocked gently and opened the door. Eleanor had her wand lit, and the apothecary knelt by the bottom bunk and put a hand on the shoulder of the older Flint brother. "How are you feeling?"

The boy yawned and slowly opened his eyes, "Wha?"

"It's morning, how does the leg feel?"

The voices were enough to awaken Elijah, who rolled over to stare at the scene below. Daniel thought for a moment, "It feels fine… It doesn't feel at all."

"Will you try and stand on it?"

The boy saw Eleanor and blushed, "Not with her in the room."

"Give me your wand, Ellie," Aberforth requested.

Daniel was eager to find out the results of the potion. As soon as the door closed behind Eleanor he swung his legs out over the bunk and rose to his feet. "It feels fine!" he grinned and took three steps forward before beginning to sway and falling over.

George caught him and helped him back to the bunk. "I warned you, the muscles on that leg are weaker now. Let me give it a look and make sure everything is fine."

"How is he?" Elijah demanded as the apothecary gave the leg a brief examination.

"Everything looks good. It will take a few weeks of exercise before he's strong enough to run, but next time I'm in Hogsmeade I expect to see him running."

Breakfast was early so those who wished could walk to Hogwarts could be there for the start of the game. Elijah and Albert both seemed happier for Daniel than the older boy seemed for himself. Daniel looked pleased, but also thoughtful, "I think that potion could really help wounded soldiers," he commented to the guest from the South.

"Not as much as you might think," the apothecary sighed. "I've got a son in the medical corps. It can't help you if you've had an arm or leg blown off. There're more wounds it can't help than those it can. It puts a strain on the system too. You're young and healthy so that wasn't a problem, but those who've been hurt in battle may not be strong enough for it. It will help some of our lads, but not as many as I wish it could."

"Aye, and make those it helps strong enough to go back and get shot at again," Aberforth muttered.

"Don't use the cane too much," George Fletcher advised Daniel as they walked around the lake. "The muscles need to develop. If you're not careful you can keep your limp even though the leg is healed."

The adult left the boys as they reached the grounds at Hogwarts. As a graduate he found a place in the stands which ringed the quidditch pitch while the boys joined the other children there to watch the game.

The last game of the term saw Hufflepuff playing against Ravenclaw. The Flint brothers cheered lustily for Hufflepuff because it had been George Fletcher's house. A number of children thought Ravenclaw was more likely to win given how easily it had defeated Gryffindor in the previous game – they wanted to cheer for a winning team.

To the sorrow of the Dicks the game was not nearly as exciting as the prior game in terms of violence. The Hufflepuff senior, although not equal to Roberta Lennox, had more experience than the Gryffindor senior – and having watched how the large woman dominated the previous game had practiced like a madman for the last four weeks. The Hufflepuff junior had profited from the increased practices as well, and managed to outplay Ravenclaw's junior.

On the other hand, those who enjoyed watching a game played well and hard cheered lustily throughout the competition. Ravenclaw's keeper was good, but still inferior to Hufflepuff's, and Hufflepuff's chasers played an aggressive game. As the day wore on Hufflepuff wore down Ravenclaw's keeper and established a small lead, but could never break away enough to become confident. Finally, as the sun began to move toward the horizon in the mid-afternoon Ravenclaw's seeker captured the snitch, ending the game.

Friday morning, November 15, and Albert didn't come down to breakfast with the Flint brothers.

"Is something wrong?" Eleanor asked.

"He was listening to the radio. Something about bad news," Elijah answered.

"All bad news these days," Aberforth murmured.

A quiet Albert joined them at the table twenty minutes later. "I was worried you'd miss school," Ellie commented.

"There was a big German raid on Coventry last night. They don't know how much damage. There may have been thousands killed. I… I…"

Eleanor looked at her husband, "I hope Mr. Puddlestone is all right."

"All we can hope for anyone." The rumors swirling around the Coventry attack were the principle object of conversation at the Hog's Head. The newspapers on the train from London had gone to press before the raid and contained no news, and the Daily Prophet had suspended publication because of the paper shortage. Aberforth wondered if the Jewish boy would mind if he tried to listen to the crystal set, but didn't know enough about how to work the device to risk trying.

The Hog's Head had its largest number of customers in years that night as Albert listened to the news and sent reports downstairs as information became available.

The church was crowded on Sunday. The Reverend urged the parishioners to pray for those who were injured and a speedy end to the war. The villagers stayed long after the service was over, sharing any news they had with one another.

Two weeks later Julian Pilliwickle delivered Mr. Puddlestone's steamer trunk to the Hog's Head. The accompanying letter indicated the factory did not have a listing for next of kin for the evening supervisor, and had this location noted as his previous address. If Aberforth knew of any relatives he was asked to send them the belongings.

The two men went through the trunk looking for any information on next-of-kin. Among the books and clothes, none with any real value, they found no information on relatives.

"What do you think?" Aberforth asked.

"Books to the library? Donate the rest of the trunk to a clothing drive?"

The host of the Hog's Head shrugged, "I suppose… Might put things in a storeroom for a few months in case a relative contacts me."

"That's a good idea."

"Unless I forget it's up there. Lord knows what's in some of those trunks that have been left over the years to gather dust."

One afternoon, after school had ended and before the Hog's Head became busy Daniel was helping his younger brother with arithmetic and Albert sat in the main room, practicing the clarinet. Aberforth chatted with Mrs. Spigot, who sat behind the bar. A blast of cold air announced someone had come through the door. Albert didn't even look up, if the customer didn't place his order at the bar the Jewish boy would ask him what he wanted when the song was finished.

But it was not a customer who had entered. "Mr. Dumbledore," the dark-haired girl a couple years older than Albert said politely.

"Yes, Eileen?"

"The potion for color alteration. You didn't forget you were going to show me how to do it?"

Albert finished the piece he was playing and listened in to the conversation.

"I didn't forget," Aberforth assured her. "Just waiting here for you… Still not sure why you're here instead of the school."

"Professor Slughorn said the school was out of the Chinese lichen and he wasn't sure when he could get more. He was the one who suggested I ask you. He said you have one of the best collections of ingredients in the country."

Aberforth smiled at the compliment. "I'd like to think so. Will there be other students needing to learn it?"

"I don't believe so. It isn't one of the standard potions, but I wanted to know how to do it."

Aberforth smiled, "You don't need to know every potion."

The girl looked puzzled, "Why not?"

He laughed, "If you put it that way, why not indeed. It's my curse as well. Now, come along to the cellar."

Rather than following the master of the Hog's Head to the cellar the girl turned and pointed at Albert. "Is that one of the evacuees?"

"Yes, I am," the boy answered.

She ignored him and looked at Aberforth for the answer to his question.

"Yes, he's staying here with me and Eleanor."

"My sister plays that same piece of music on her saxophone. It is very annoying."

The two emerged from the cellar a half hour later. Albert was still in the main room and practicing, and she ignored him as she thanked Aberforth for the lesson.

"Who was that?" the Jewish boy asked at the end of a piece after she had left. "She was very rude."

"Eileen Prince. She is a… A little peculiar. Very focused on potions and gobstones, and she's very good at both. Outside of those it can sometimes feel like she's not really there while she's talking with you."

"She said something about a sister who likes swing."

Aberforth shrugged, "I wouldn't know. Eileen doesn't talk about family, just wants learn more about potions than anyone else in the world."

"What are those stones you mentioned… Gobstones?"

"Gobstones, aye," Aberforth thought for a few seconds. "I'm afraid they're one of those wizard things."

Albert sighed. He and the Flint brothers had learned that 'wizard things' meant it would take a great deal of time for Aberforth or Eleanor to try and explain something, and at the end of the explanation the boys would feel helplessly confused and have no real idea what the Dumbledores were talking about.

* * *

Breaking the German code alerted the English government to the upcoming Coventry raid. The government feared warning Coventry that German bombers were coming would reveal they knew the German code. A difficult choice. Warn Coventry and save lives now, but the Germans change their codes and hundreds more might be killed later as a result. Don't warn Coventry and many die now, and there is always the chance no lives will be saved by later information – or the Germans might change their codes anyway. Coventry was not warned of the coming raid. The exact death toll is unknown, but estimated between six hundred to one thousand with hundreds more injured.

Paper rationing reduced the size of all newspapers early in the war, and reduced them even more later. On January 21, 1941, the newspaper The Daily Worker, published by Britain's Communist Party, was suppressed. Stalin may or may not have been paranoid. There were enough people out to get him, and Communism, that his demands for hegemony in states bordering the USSR – especially those created on lands taken from Russia at the end of World War I – to create a buffer state protecting the USSR should be understandable.

The deboning spell... I was delighted to learn I was not alone in questioning some of the internal logic of Rowling's magic. The deboning spell would clearly have so many wonderful uses for evil wizards why wasn't it used more? Could Gildaroy Lockhart have invented a new spell by accident? I've taken the approach it is a spell that healers guarded because of its potential for abuse (never write it down and only tell the worthy). How Lockhart obtained knowledge of it isn't clear, but the man was too full of himself to pay proper attention and thought it was a bone-mending spell of some sort when he used it on Harry.


	6. In the Bleak MidWinter

Unlike my Hogwarts 1835 this story will include characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as my canon checker for my previous story. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which serves as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

**In the Bleak Mid-Winter**

"Can't you set up a normal appointment?" Churchill complained as Servius Fudge appeared in the Prime Minister's office.

"I prefer not to bother you unless necessary and, if necessary, I may not have time to go through the niceties of an appointment."

"So you think you have something I want to hear?"

"No, but I have something I believe you need to hear, along with a bit of good news."

"Good news is always welcome. What are you going to tell me I don't want to hear?"

"His former majesty, the Duke, gave an interview to an American… I hate to speak ill of the King's brother, but what he said sounded like treason."

Churchill picked up a piece of paper from his desk, "The American's name was Fulton Oursler, editor of some magazine called Liberty."

"Oh, you knew. I couldn't believe it of him."

"Believe it. He's a fascist. Wally has been in bed with the Nazis, quite probably literally as well as figuratively, for years. Hitler wants him back on the throne."

"Sorry to have taken your time, Sir. I did not realize you were aware of the situation."

"Why do you think we exiled him to the Bahamas? He's a crook as well as a traitor, but he's still the King's brother. We monitor him as closely as we can – have people on his staff, but we never imagined he would say that. You said you might have a piece of good news, I'm damn ready to hear one, especially about this."

"The Americans wanted the interview for that magazine–"

"I know, and there's no legal way to demand they stop publication. Some law about something called prior restraint."

"It will not be published."

"How do you know?"

"We know."

Churchill looked suspicious, "You're quite certain?"

"Quite."

The Prime Minister drew a sigh of relief, "I hope you're right… Is this something you magic boys set up? Destroy the notes or something?"

"No, Sir. Although I believe in this case we might have if you made the request. This Oursler fellow is a friend of the President, and the President himself asked it not be published, afraid it might harm relations with us."

"If that's–" A phone rang on Churchill's desk. He picked it up and barked, "Yes?" He listened for a second, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand and whispered to Fudge, "Roosevelt." The wizard nodded, and disappeared into the fireplace.

The phone call did not last long. The Prime Minister stared vacantly at the wall for a few minutes, wondering why he had favored Edward VIII and begged him not to abdicate. Churchill knew exactly why he had favored the ex-king, he was handsome, articulate, and charming. For those reasons the Prime Minister had been willing to overlook his deficiencies, certain he could have rallied the Commonwealth better than his stuttering younger brother. At least George VI possessed the virtues the country needed in this time of crisis.

Very few Hogwarts students returned home for the holiday break. Tom Riddle much preferred staying at the school to returning to the orphanage. Most of his time was spent alternating between the Slytherin common room where complaints about the presence of muggles in the village outweighed talk about the war and time spent in the library searching for clues on the Chamber of Secrets. While other houses dismissed the stories of the chamber as myth those in Slytherin knew it must exist even if none of them knew exactly where it was located, what it contained, or how it might be opened if located. Young Riddle grew obsessed with the story, seeing it as a proof and fulfillment of his destiny.

Portia Higgs, who directed the church choir, was busy most evenings with rehearsals. In addition to the regular choir she had formed a youth choir primarily from the evacuees and had enough music for a special Christmas Eve carol service, with solos from Judy and some other talented singers. She was also determined to organize a band for the services.

Albert did not look happy, "You want me to play the clarinet? In church?"

"Yes, I've been told you're very good."

"I, uh–"

"See here, Portia," Aberforth interrupted. "The little Son of Abraham here is Jewish."

"So that's why he's not been in church?"

"Aye, and you need to respect that."

"Nonsense. Church never hurt anyone. It would probably do him a world of good. But I'm just asking him to play his instrument. One of the Flint boys says he plays very well. I've been recruiting musicians from the muggles and out at the school also and–"

"No," Aberforth told her.

"But–"

"No," Aberforth repeated.

"It's all right," Albert sighed. "It would be fun to play with some other musicians."

"Are you sure, lad?"

Albert shrugged, "I guess so. Russia had pogroms. Germany had Kristallnacht. England has Christmas programs."

"Not the same!" Portia protested angrily.

"Doesn't sound like he's happy about your idea," Aberforth grunted.

"Sorry," Albert apologized. "I should not have said that. It was rude. I would happy to help." He was not happy to help. He put up with too many foolish questions from Christians who thought they understood Judaism because of bad sermons from clueless pastors already. But he feared the possibility of actual hostility towards him if he should say no.

Three nights later Portia had the first rehearsal for the instrumentalists. Albert arrived exactly on time, not wanting to talk with people before the rehearsal and hoping to leave the second it was over. A dark-haired girl about his age, holding a saxophone, glared at him as soon as he opened his case.

"Are you that muggle evacuee from the Hog's Head?"

"Albert Goldstein, yes. And you?"

"And I play better than you."

"Adrianna, please," Mrs. Higgs told the girl, "look at your part."

"But my sister, Eileen, said–"

"Your part," Mrs. Higgs reminded her sharply, and handed sheet music to Albert.

Adrianna Prince gave a final glare at Albert and moved to a distant chair - only to be moved beside him later as Portia worked on the sitting arrangement. Albert studied his music intently and wished his instrument was newer and in a little better repair. This must be the younger sister the Prince girl had mentioned. He thought he had seen her as one of the Slytherin chasers, but wasn't certain.

She laughed at him twice when worn pads caused small problems for him and he made a quiet, snide comment when she missed the start of her part. She responded by transposing the current staff of the carol into the Dorian mode and improvising a small riff.

As Portia Higgs waved at them to stop Albert did his own bit of improvisation and looked smug, "I listen to Benny Goodman on the radio."

They both ignored Mrs. Higgs, calling for them to pay attention as Adrianna improvised an extended solo on his effort. "I heard Coleman Hawkins with Jack Hylton's band in London and–"

"And the two of you are disrupting rehearsal for everyone with your swing nonsense," Portia said firmly. "We are playing the great hymns of the faith, not bawdy dance tunes. Play what is written on the sheet of music in front of you."

By the time he returned home that evening Albert had a deeper respect for Portia Higgs' ability as a director, and an even deeper hatred for Adrianna Prince. He consoled himself with the fact he'd never have to see her after the Christmas service.

In the short daylight hours evacuees organized scrap drives and paper drives, and everyone collected fat for the manufacture of glycerin.

Out on the Hart farm taking care of livestock required a portion of each day. Pericles also worked with the Dicks on getting tools and equipment repaired and ready for spring planting, and on some candle-lit evenings after supper Alice talked about next year's garden with Whitey and Squints.

In the village seed catalogs were examined and victory gardens discussed as well. The number of evacuees meant the gardens would be even larger than the year before.

The parents of several Hogwarts students asked if their sons and daughters could remain at the school over the summer. The faculty discussed the possibility during the break, but ultimately decided against the proposal.

The Christmas program came off beautifully. Portia Higgs had never received so many compliments on the choir, and she lavished praise on all the performers when thanks were offered.

Someone suggested that the evacuee children's choir sing carols at Hogwarts, but Tom Riddle took up a petition to keep them from the school.

"You know, there have been muggles in Hogwarts before," Armando Dippet reminded Tom as he looked over the signatures.

"I know that, Sir. But they have been individuals, not large groups. And I think they were all adults. While I'm certain many of the evacuees are quite responsible the fact remains that it is a large group, and some of them are quite young. It would be difficult to watch them all. There are things in the potions classroom, or the defense classroom, that would be potentially dangerous if one of them slipped away from the group. I am only thinking of their safety."

"That is very considerate of you," Headmaster Dippet sighed. He looked again at the long list of signatures. "I think they would be safe, but it seems enough people are concerned for them that I'll tell Mrs. Higgs it can't be done."

"Thank you, Sir."

Armando Dippet smiled as he considered whether the petition should be filed or discarded. He should probably put it young Riddle's file as a reminder of the conversation. Tom Riddle was such a conscientious youth, always thinking of others. He wished the school had more such students.

"Well?" Ferret demanded when Tom returned to Slytherin.

"There won't be any muggles polluting the school this Christmas season," Riddle boasted.

Bear laughed, "You've got that old fool wrapped around your finger, don'cha?"

"Don't say such a thing," Tom chided softly. "I merely expressed my concerns over a pack of muggles leaving their filth all over and he smiled and agreed with my flawless logic." Tom and his friends burst into laughter.

Albert missed Sabbath dinner on Friday nights with his family. His father was still in London, and able to welcome the Sabbath with other congregants who remained in the City. His mother and baby sister had finally evacuated to a Jewish home in the midlands. Friday night was often the busiest night at the Hog's Head and Albert felt like he needed to help. At least the Dumbledores tried to make it up to him, as best they could, by telling the Flint brothers to be quiet on Saturday morning and let him stay in bed as long as he wanted, then made a special breakfast for him. He would then spend two or three hours practicing trope from his tikkun. He took pride in being able to write honestly to his father every week that he remained faithful in reading the Torah.

Saturday morning, December 28, Albert was awakened by Elijah gently shaking his shoulder.

"Wha…" the sleepy boy mumbled.

"There's a girl downstairs who wants to see you."

"A girl?"

"The girl who played that thing… the saxophone… by you at the church. She has it and said you need to come downstairs."

Albert rolled over, his back to Elijah. "Tell her to go away."

Elijah returned a few minutes later and poked Albert to waken him. "She says to come down with your clarinet."

"You can tell her…" Albert muttered.

"Tell her what?"

"Never mind. I'll get dressed and tell her to go away myself."

Albert stumbled downstairs and glared at Adrianna. "Why are you here?"

She returned the cold stare. "We didn't have a chance to settle it, Mrs. Higgs stopped us. I play better than you."

"Fine. You play better. Go away and leave me alone."

"See you admit I play better."

"If it makes you happy. Just go away."

"Wait, you're just admitting I'm better 'cause you want me to leave. You think you're better than me, don't you?"

"Just go away."

"You get your clarinet right now or I'll… I'll… I don't know what I'll do to you," the second year threatened. "But it will hurt. It will hurt a lot."

Aberforth had been listening in, but had not wanted to interrupt until the threat was made, "Now see here. There'll be none of that at the Hog's Head. Leave the boy alone."

"That's okay," Albert sighed. "I'll get my clarinet. The little nuisance will just be back."

"And try," she shouted as he headed for the stairs. "I'm going to show I play better than you when you're doing your best!"

They jammed for almost three hours, doing complicated improvisations they were certain the other couldn't match. Between efforts to prove their superiority over each other they talked about the musicians they liked. Their tastes were mostly similar, although they occasionally disagreed over the quality of one of the big bands. If they had not been trying to beat each other they might become friends that morning as they played their instruments. But they were trying to beat the other. He relished the fact he knew more of the bands because of listening to them on his crystal set, but around noon when she had to return to school she smiled, "Well, I play better than you."

"You don't play better. My stick is old. If I had a newer instrument you wouldn't say that."

"You're just making excuses, I play better. I play better and you know it."

"I know more about music than you do!"

"But I play better." She ran out the door before he could think of a rebuttal.

Daniel had listened through most of the exchange, as had Aberforth. The wizard wasn't certain if he liked the music, but the girl had seemed angry when she arrived and he had wanted to be there to keep the peace if necessary. "What was that all about?" the older Flint brother asked.

"I'm not sure," Albert admitted. "She said something about her sister…"

"Eileen," Aberforth filled in.

"Her sister saying I played better, and she's been like that since I met her."

"None of us like being told someone else is better than we are at something. Especially hard for a witch or wizard to be told a muggle is better at anything."

"You were both good," Daniel told Albert. "Weren't they, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"I'm afraid I don't know enough about the music to have a real opinion," Aberforth confessed. "I couldn't tell much difference."

Mary Fisk had not received a letter from her mother in two weeks. It was unusual, but Mary knew her mother was busy and the girl had been too busy helping Mrs. Higgs with plans for the Christmas program to worry. A letter arrived from her father on the Monday after Christmas. Her mother had been killed in a German bombing raid the week before Christmas. Mary's letters had talked so much about the Christmas program he had delayed the news until after the holiday.

Portia wished her magic could have given her words of comfort for the crying child as she held Mary on her lap through the night, slowly rocking back and forth.

When not engaged in war drives or garden planning, board games, card games, books from Hogsmeade's small library and complaints about the weather kept the evacuees and local children occupied. The snow kept the school closed for several days, but the teachers rode brooms from house to house to collect assignments and leave more work.

The snow lay deep in January, and with coal rationed Portia Higgs closed her huge and drafty house and moved the three girls and herself to a friend's home near the Three Broomsticks. It was crowded in the smaller home, but by sharing their coal rations also much warmer.

"What happens to Bleeker?" Mary had demanded when first told of the plan.

"He'll stay with the house elves out at the school. Professor Dumbledore arranged for any house elves in the village to–"

"Dumbledore? Is he family with the man who runs the Hog's Head?"

"Yes, Dear. They're brothers. But there's some sort of family quarrel and they haven't spoken directly to each other for years. You are one of the few evacuees who has seen a house elf, and Albus arranged with the Head to allow any elves in the village to stay at the school when necessary."

In his room over the Evans Bakery Hollyhock stared out the window across the blinding expanse of white to the thick woods and hoped his friend was all right.

Mary Fisk's first effort to use a rabbit skin to trim a hat had not worked as well as she had wished. She had a design clearly in her head, and some skills with a needle – but not quite as much talent as her design required. Portia Higgs, sensing Mary's frustration offered to help and showed her how to produce a hat that looked fairly smart and kept her head warm. Other children wanted Mary to work on hats for them as well. Holly had large collection of tanned rabbit pelts, and very little sense of what to do with them. Mary had the opportunity to make a little money but needed rabbit pelts.

"All right," the boy agreed. "But we split the money evenly."

"I'm doing all the work on the sewing!"

"I'm doing all the work on tanning the skins."

The same snowdrifts that made Mary and Holly's business venture a success caused problems for the town.

Supplies for Hogwarts arrived at the station, but the snow made it impossible to use wagons to deliver the food to the school. The small stove in the station was not large enough for the use of floo powder. Professor Dippet, the head of the school, suggested tying several brooms to a sleigh and using that to bring in the supplies, but the filled sleigh was too heavy and the runners buried too deeply in the snow for the plan to work. Finally Professor Slughorn, who did not enjoy missing meals, muttered, "The ministry's ban be damned," and managed to locate three threadbare old flying carpets in a storeroom.

Rubeus Hagrid, Roberta Lennox and another strong student were drafted to help load supplies and Professors Slughorn, Poppins, and Grubbly each piloted a carpet and student across the white drifts to the station. The students remained at the station as the professors made several trips shuttling supplies to the school, the heavily loaded carpets skimming the top of the snow as they flew to Hogwarts. As Professor Slughorn took the last load of supplies Brutus Poppins and Whilhamina Grubbly returned the students to the school.

"Why isn't there some kind of spell or something for all this snow?" Elijah complained as the three boys helped Aberforth dig out the front of the Hog's Head and open a space in the goat pen.

"Got a heat spell," the man grunted as he threw another shovelful, but the water'd just freeze and the ice would be a bigger problem. I could blast it, but no control there - be worse'n drifts. If it were all a big snow ball I could make it fly away, but not millions of flakes. I could make a shovel dig by itself–"

"Why don't you?" Albert wanted to know.

"Because a shovel's got no brains and I'd have to watch it closer than I have to watch old Ogg with the dice cup when we play backgammon. No, snow like this and we dig like muggles. At least I've got some good liniment for my back when we're done out here – and some hot cider for you three."

Tom Riddle took up a petition to bring back the dueling club. "We're at war. We ought to know how to defend ourselves, just in case."

Professor Merrythought refused to give the petition consideration. "Dueling will not help in a modern battle."

"It was required after the Goblin Wars. Just ask Professor Binns."

"And Latin was once required for all students. The fact something was once required does not mean it should always be required."

"It could be voluntary. Dueling Club was voluntary for many years. No one would have to join."

"And you can go ask Professor Binns why Dueling Club was dropped if you are interested in the lessons of history. There have been far too many injuries over the years in the contests and I will not permit that."

Bear looked glum when Tom reported Professor Merrythought's response to his petition, "Damn, I really wanted Dueling Club."

"Why do you sound so unhappy? We're going to have a dueling club."

"But the Professor said–"

"It doesn't really matter what the Professor said. She was offered the chance to let the dueling club be official, and she turned it down. Honestly, who imagined the woman had enough brains to teach at Hogwarts? Students want Dueling Club–"

The light went on for Ferret, "So, we're going to have Dueling Club, whether she likes it not."

"Exactly," Tom agreed. "And had she been capable of thought she would have realized there's greater safety if a club's official."

"So what do we do?" Bear asked.

"You don't do anything. Let me ask around, find some students who are interested in joining. Ferret, you look around the building for a place where we can meet. Here's the first rule of dueling club for both you, first rule of dueling club – you do _not_ talk about dueling club."

"But–" Bear protested.

"Quiet," Tom told him firmly. "First rule of dueling club, don't talk about dueling club. I'll ask around for potential members I think all of our crowd will be there. I'll ask some other Slytherins, maybe some Ravenclaws. It'd be fun to beat them."

"Not going to ask anyone from Gryffindor or Hufflepuff?" Ferret asked.

Tom just rolled his eyes at the suggestion, "The house with that mongrel in it? Hufflepuff?"

"Just thinking," Marian apologized, "the bigger the better."

"Let Tom think," Bear told his smaller friend.

Tom was thinking. A larger group would be a testimony to his own importance, "Ferret's right," he told William. "There may be _some_ in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff worth inviting. But Slytherin rules the club." His friends nodded in agreement.

* * *

While Americans found Edward VIII giving up the throne for Wallis Simpson terribly romantic he was friendly with the Nazis and engaged in criminal activities while governor of the Bahamas. The Nazis were interested in restoring him to the throne. After the war his brother, Queen Elizabeth's father, is said to have destroyed a number of documents showing how deeply his brother had associated with the Nazi cause. The interview with Oursler for Liberty magazine was released about half a century later. There are various historical inaccuracies in _The King's Speech_, such as the fact Churchill was less friendly toward George VI than portrayed in the film, but the gist of it is more accurate than most movies.

Hitler instituted the anti-Jewish Nuremberg Laws soon after he came to power, and protests against his treatment of Jews almost led to an Olympic boycott in 1936. But the November 1938 attacks on Jews, Jewish homes, synagogues, and businesses known as Kristallnacht is often viewed as the start of overt violence against them.

Coleman Hawkins joined Jack Hylton's band in 1934 and performed in London and toured Europe until 1939.

Garbage dumps/landfills are relatively recent and only after the Industrial Revolution made real surpluses possible. In pre-industrial cities if it burned, you burned it for heat - and the inert ashes were used in construction. Human waste that didn't run into the streams was used for fertilizer, as were bones. Dog manure was used in tanning leather. Food scraps fed pigs. Metal scrap was re-smelted, and glass remade. Clothing and bedding was used until the rags were sold to paper makers. (The cry, "Any rags, any bones, any bottles today?" could be heard many days as junk men pushed their carts down the street.) Some of the paper that came to the home, such as letters and catalogs, would be cut into squares, strung on thread, and used for toilet paper. Recycling is not new.

Britain suffered heavy snowfalls from 1937-1942, especially in the north. The winter of 1940-41 saw drifts as high as sixteen feet.

The fats/grease that were collected during the war were processed for glycerin, used in the manufacture of ammunition/explosives.

For anyone unfamiliar with the Jewish system of determining days, a new day begins at sundown. So the Sabbath begins Friday evening at sunset, and lasts until sunset on Saturday. A tikkun is a study guide. Some tikkuns contain information on how a text from the Torah should sound when read aloud in a service. The Torah scroll itself has no such markings, so tikkuns are studied during the week to prepare for the reading during the service.


	7. Young Men's Fancy Turns to Quidditch

Unlike my Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as my canon checker for 1835. In addition she furnished me with the understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

**Spring, and Young Men's Fancy Turns to Quidditch**

With Hitler apparently secure on the continent the only good news in January for the British army came from North Africa. Commonwealth forces captured the stronghold of Tobruk and other sites in eastern Libyan from the Italians. Egypt and the Suez – the lifeline to Commonwealth nations in the Far East – looked safe. In February the Germans landed Erwin Rommel and his Afrika Korps in Tripoli. March saw the Italian navy crippled in a battle with British ships near Crete. The feeling of success did not endure. Late in the month Rommel went on the offensive in North Africa with devastating victories and in April the Germans overran Yugoslavia and Greece.

Far from the many fronts of war the villagers in Hogsmeade, like the rest of Britain, wondered when to plant their victory gardens. With evacuees swelling the population of the village the gardens were more important than ever. Plant too early, however, and you risked a late frost killing what you planted. Sow too late and you looked lazy and would not have fresh vegetables as quickly as your neighbors.

Easter break, like Christmas, saw most of the Hogwarts students remain in the ancient buildings. Melting snow left the ground swampy between the school and village. While the grass and trees had started turning green the damp conditions kept children indoors more than they would have liked.

The first quidditch match of the spring was held on an inclement day at the end of April.

After his humiliation at the hands of Roberta Lennox the Gryffindor senior had practiced hard. To Slytherin's shame Bear had not practiced as faithfully. After watching Ravenclaw's senior dominate the game he had written off not only the Gryffindor senior, but the entire team.

Mad Queen, at keeper, blocked a higher percentage of the runs on goal than her Gryffindor counterpart. But the skills of Minerva McGonagall, who had drilled her fellow chasers until they hated her almost as much as they hated their opponents, meant that Gryffindor made far more runs at the hoops than Slytherin.

Neither seeker had a good day. The overcast sky and light drizzle meant the gleam of gold they sought would be difficult to see. In addition Ferret suffered from a head cold. Between the lack of experience on the part of Gryffindor's seeker and Ferret's aches and fevers the game dragged on for most of the day.

In the first few hours of the morning the lead had gone back and forth several times, but scores remained low. In the late morning Gryffindor took the lead. Over the next several hours of play Gryffindor's lead built slowly. Mad Queen made saves that cemented her nickname, but there were simply too many Gryffindor runs on goal. A little after four Minerva put the quaffle through the hoop to give Gryffindor a hundred and thirty point lead, but it was to be the last goal she scored that game. Ferret virtually collided with the snitch, he grabbed wildly. It got away. He risked grabbing with both hands, it slipped away again, but he lunged, catching it with his left hand as he started to slide off the broom. With his right hand he caught the handle and held on tightly to his broom without letting go of the snitch. He crashed into the turf rather than flying a victory lap, but he held his hand up with the snitch to the cheers of Slytherin as the game was whistled over.

Slytherin played again a month later, against Ravenclaw. While few of the evacuees truly understood or loved quidditch, the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match up was still highly anticipated. They had each defeated the two other houses, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and the evacuees were certain the game would determine the house champion for the year.

"Whoever wins this 'un is the champ," Porky explained to Squints as the Dicks arrived.

"Not necessarily," Holly interjected. "They add up all the points a team gets from all three games, then the one with the most total points wins. You could actually lose all three games, but if your scores were high enough you'd be the champion for the year."

"That's stupid," Blackie commented.

Holly shrugged, "Some people think so, but it's the way they do it. I don't think it has ever happened."

"So, you're saying that if those two teams with no wins have a really, really, long game one of them could still be the champion?"

"Yeah, but it probably won't happen. The winner today is probably the champion. But Ravenclaw has a bigger margin of victory than Slytherin, so if Slytherin wins a close game Ravenclaw could still be the champion."

"Just stupid," Blackie muttered.

Although he had spent the month training after his relatively poor showing against Gryffindor Bear was not equal to the task of facing Roberta Lennox, but he hung on grimly. He would not allow the Ravenclaw senior the same chance to dominate the game as she had in Ravenclaw's first game of the season. Humphrey Bagshot, Humpty-Dumpty, looked better in comparison as he faced the Ravenclaw junior.

Roberta focused her attention on trying to attack the Slytherin keeper. Mad Queen was regarded as the school's best keeper, and Bear did his best to defend her, but the Ravenclaw senior had the strength and experience to force him into weak positions. Badly shaken, Lucretia, began to let the Ravenclaw chasers take a large lead. Adrianna Prince did her best to strip the quaffle from the opposing chasers, but she was a small girl going against larger and stronger chasers and ended up bruised herself.

Ravenclaw enjoyed a hundred and forty point lead on goals when Ferret captured the snitch, ending the game. He flew no lap of triumph. Everyone knew the margin necessary for victory before the start of the game. Slytherin had won the game, won all three of their games that year, but they were still ninety points short of Ravenclaw's total points for the year. Unless the final game of the season went on for days Ravenclaw would win the cup for quidditch.

The Slytherin team was subdued, despite their victory, on the way back to the school, to have won all three games and not won the cup hurt.

"Damn. I wish I could have caught the snitch earlier," Ferret muttered.

Bear said nothing, but his sullen silence reflected his anger with himself for being outplayed.

Tom Riddle put a hand on the back of each. "You were both fine. Bear, you went up against the best senior at Hogwarts right now. You didn't embarrass us the way Gryffindor was embarrassed. Ferret, you caught the snitch. You did your job. Don't just look at the moment, look to the future. We'll lose Mad Queen, but we've got the rest of the team that won all three games intact. We can probably win for the next three years. Don't let a little setback discourage you – keep your eyes on the long-term goals. This doesn't even count as a little setback. We won the game. We're the only house with three wins."

"Thanks, Tom," Avery smiled. "You're right. You're always right."

"Always," Riddle assured them. "Party tonight to celebrate the victory, and start thinking about who'll make a good keeper next year."

The second Saturday in May dawned gloriously. Gardens were planted, the ground was dry, green tendrils poked from the ground in neat rows and a gentle breeze smelled of fresh growth in the forest.

"Can I read outside?" Mary asked Mrs. Higgs.

"Where?"

"The field between the bakery and the forest."

"That's fine, dear. Don't go into the forest. There are dangers there… Oh, and don't stay out too long in the sun. You'll certainly burn."

"I promise to be careful."

"Very well… Don't be gone long."

"I won't."

The Hogsmeade village library being small Mary had an Agatha Christie mystery to read. She would have preferred something by Enid Blyton, but Hogsmeade's volunteer librarian had dismissed Blyton's books as, "Silly twaddle," when the London children had arrived and asked for them. Since then parents had sent books to their children, which were donated to the library after reading for other children to borrow. But there was a waiting list of evacuees wanting Blyton, and Christie and Wodehouse were always available.

Perhaps it was the fact she was reading a mystery which made Mary more curious than normal, or simply the fact it was Holly Evans that made her curious. She had stopped reading for a moment and noticed him heading into the forest the evacuees had been warned to avoid. She closed the cover of book, with her finger inside to mark her place, and followed him with her eyes. She had wondered why he didn't attend Hogwarts and he had gotten very angry when she asked if he could do magic. He said something that she didn't understand about a curse on his family. He had still apparently not forgiven her for asking, and hadn't talked with her except to answer her questions as briefly as possible since that day.

Holly disappeared among the trees and she opened her book to resume reading. Before she looked down on the page, however, she saw movement to her left. The impossibly large boy from Hogwarts appeared to be heading toward the spot where Holly had entered the forest. Suddenly convinced that she was in the midst of a mystery of her own she closed the book and quickly moved across the field in the direction of the large boy. In the mystery novels someone following another person was never a good thing.

Rubeus Hagrid was too intent on following Holly to notice that he himself was being followed. The huge boy's woodcraft skills were not very good, but Holly had no more idea that he was being followed than Rubeus knew of his own shadow. Mary picked her own way carefully, but the large boy was too intent on his pursuit to notice her

Mary hesitated before entering the forest. She had been told since the day she arrived that the woods were off limits to all the children. _"But,"_ she rationalized to herself, _"if you're trying to stop something dreadful from happening the normal rules no longer apply,"_ and she plunged ahead. She panicked momentary when she feared her momentary hesitation had caused her to lose her quarry, but Rubeus was too large to hide well - and was keeping any tree trunks between himself and Holly so Mary soon spied him and resumed her own following.

They continued deeper into the woods, deep enough that Mary began to worry. She had not actually seen Holly for several minutes. Rubeus left a large distance between himself and the boy in the lead because he feared discovery. Mary thought there was a small clearing ahead, but the large boy stopped and found some bushes which he remained behind while peering into the area where the trees thinned out. Mary hid herself and waited to see what Rubeus would do.

Apparently the boy was going to do nothing but watch. In the silence Mary thought she heard voices. She was not close enough to hear the actual conversation, but it sounded like two voices. While Mary thought one sounded like Holly the other sounded slightly odd, like someone for whom English was not his first language. Still regarding herself in a mystery she wondered if the stranger might be a spy… But that required Holly be working against King and country and she couldn't believe that. Mary waited five minutes. Five long minutes. It seemed like an eternity as she watched Rubeus spying on someone Mary herself could not see. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she shouted, "What are you doing?" at the large boy.

The conversation ceased instantly. There were sounds of sudden flight from the clearing ahead.

"Who's there?" Holly's voice demanded.

"Someone followed you," Mary shouted.

"Who are you?" Holly demanded and moved toward the voice, which brought him in the direction of Rubeus. The large boy tried to hide. "You stay there!" Mary ordered.

"Mary?" Holly called.

"Yes."

Holly sounded angry, "How dare you follow me! I ought to–" He stopped when he saw Rubeus, which was just as he arrived in a spot where Mary could see him.

"I wasn't following you, I was following him."

Holly was more than a foot shorter than the other boy, but a couple years older and very angry. "What were you doing!"

"I wanted to see him," the huge boy answered sullenly.

"Him who?" Mary wanted to know.

"None of your business," Holly snapped angrily.

"The centaur," Rubeus answered.

"Centaur?"

As if in answer to the question the voice with the odd timbre called, "Friend Hollyhock, are you all right?" There was movement in the brush and Mary saw a tall tow-headed boy push back branches and peer in their direction.

"I'm fine, Firenze," Holly called. "Stay away."

"Are you certain everything is as it should be?" the boy asked, stepping forward. But it was suddenly clear he was not a boy. Below his waist the creature Holly called Firenze had the body of a horse.

Rubeus stared in wonder, smiling happily. Mary stared in shock.

"Just two fools who followed me," Holly grumbled.

Mary kicked a sapling in anger "I did not follow you! I saw you go into the woods. I don't care where you go. You can jump off a cliff if you want. I saw him," she pointed at Rubeus, "follow you and I thought he was going to do something bad."

Now it was the turn of Rubeus to look shocked, "I'd never do anything bad. I just wanted to see the centaur."

"Well maybe he didn't want to be seen," Holly shot back. "Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think of what he might want?"

"Patience, Hollyhock," the centaur chided gently. Mary decided the odd quality of the centaur's voice was that of someone half asleep, whose mind is half in the present and real and half in a dream state.

Rubeus was still upset, "Why did you think I was going to hurt him?"

Mary hesitated, "Well, I was reading this book," she held up the novel, "and people who follow other people are up to no good."

"Well you followed me!"

"I was trying to keep you from hurting him."

"You said you didn't care if he threw himself off a cliff!"

"He can throw himself off, but I don't want someone else throwing him off a cliff or drowning him a lake or something."

The centaur gave Holly a puzzled look, "Who are these creatures? I have not met a female of your people."

"She's not my people," Holly muttered softly then spoke up, "Firenze, these are not my friends, but may I introduce Mary Fisk. She is one of the evacuees from London staying in Hogsmeade. Mary, Firenze."

He gave her a subtle nod, acknowledging her existence and she bowed to the strange creature.

"And this…" Holly hesitated, "I don't know his name."

"Hagrid," the boy spoke up, "Rubeus Hagrid. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Now, go away, both of you."

The centaur raised a hand to stop Mary, "You are Mary of the hats? Hollyhock has mentioned you."

"I've mentioned all the evacuees," Holly protested. "All I know the names of anyway."

Mary still managed to blush slightly. "Yes. I guess I am."

"From London?"

"Yes."

"I have heard of London. It is said to be very large. Larger than Hogsmeade?"

"Much larger. Millions of people live there!"

"Millions?"

"Millions. A million is a one with six zeros behind it–"

"One and zero?"

"No, it's…" She held out both hands, fingers spread. "This is ten." She closed her fingers, then quickly opened her hands and extended her fingers ten times. "Ten times ten is one hundred. If I do that ten times, make the ten times ten for ten times, then it's one thousand. And if I–"

Holly noticed that the centaur's eyes were starting to glaze over. "Stop it," he ordered, "you're just being confusing him."

"Oh," Mary said in a pitying tone of voice, obviously convinced that the centaur was simple-minded.

If Firenze was too unaccustomed to the ways of humans to catch the nuance Holly certainly didn't miss it. "He doesn't do numbers all by themselves. He knows every plant that grows in the forest – and what they can do. Do you?"

"No," Mary admitted, "I–"

"He knows the name of every star in the sky, and when they come up. Do you?"

"No. That's–"

"And every kind of creature that lives out here," Holly continued, "and where they live and–"

"Friend Hollyhock," the centaur interrupted, "I think you try and argue for me. There is no need. I know what I know. She knows what she knows. There is no need for us to be jealous of one another."

"Thank you," Mary told the centaur. She noticed a large oak. "Let's say every leaf on that tree was a person. The leaves on about eight trees, just like that, would probably be how many people live in close to London. And about eight more that size, if all the leaves were people, live around the city."

"That is not possible," Firenze protested. "So many people? How could food be found for them all?"

"Trains! Trains, and lorries, and ships all bring food to the city."

The centaur remained skeptical, "Hollyhock, is this true?"

"Well, yes. They say–"

"They say," the creature scoffed, "have you seen it with your eyes or do you only repeat the tales you have been told?" He asked Holly directly, "Have you seen London with your eyes?"

"No, but–"

Firenze turned to Rubeus, "Have you?"

The large boy shook his head no. "I rode a train into London, and we changed trains in a station. But I didn't really see London."

The centaur smiled. "I do not doubt the existence of the village of London, only the numbers she gives."

"That doesn't mean anything," Mary said angrily. "I'd never seen a centaur before fifteen minutes ago. Did that mean you didn't exist?"

"If you had no proof, did you believe we existed?"

"Well… No," she admitted.

"And would the testimony of one person have convinced you of the truth?"

She hesitated, "No."

"Perhaps your London is as you say, perhaps it is not. I would hear more of your stories."

Holly looked at the sky and frowned, "Not now, it's late. You'd better go."

The centaur glanced at the position of the sun and left hurriedly.

"His people don't trust wizards, or muggles," Holly explained to the other two. He'd catch all kinds of trouble if they knew he was talking with me."

"How did you meet him," Hagrid asked excitedly. "How many more are there in the woods? What do they eat? How long do they live? Where–"

"Quiet," Holly ordered. "He's my friend. I met him out here in the woods. The rest I don't know or it's none of your business."

"But–" Rubeus protested.

"Go back. And don't tell anyone you saw him."

The large boy wanted to say something, but Mary took him by the arm and pulled him back the way they had entered the woods. As they left he kept talking about centaurs. At the edge of the forest he headed towards Hogwarts and she returned home to be scolded by Mrs. Higgs for staying out too long in the sun.

After supper the three girls and Mrs. Higgs sat outside on the porch. Holly slouched by and gestured for Mary to leave the porch and talk with him. "You didn't say anything about Firenze, did you?"

"Of course not. It's your secret."

"And you really thought that big guy was going to hurt me?"

"Well. Yes."

He laughed at her. "That's ridiculous. You have a wild imagination."

"No I don't," she said loudly and stomped back to the porch.

"Holly likes you," Judy smirked.

"No he doesn't," Mary replied. "He thinks I'm an idiot."

"Well, then do you like him?" Shirley asked.

"I know he's an idiot," Mary shot back.

In her next letter to her father Mary wanted to tell about the centaur, but knew he would never believe the story. Besides, his unit was being sent to North Africa and he would probably worry that she was losing her mind. He shouldn't have to worry about her, he needed to concentrate on coming home safely.

News of the Hood's sinking generated controversy in the village. Some swore that the ease with which the Bismarck triumphed demonstrated the work of German wizards. On Monday evening, May 26, Charlie Hexam, a veteran of the first Boer War, and Frederick Wren, who lost a son in the Great War were at their usual table at the Hog's Head. And, as was almost as usual, they drank more than they ought and grew louder as they drank. The two loudly boasted they would get on their brooms and fly out to sink the Bismarck.

Aberforth headed over to try and reason with two men temporarily incapable of reason. "You'd be breaking the Avignon Oath, you know that don't you?"

"Don' care," Charlie swore, "Damn Germans broke it first."

"You don't know that. What if they didn't? Story gets out of two wizards attacking a battle ship, you're just asking that Durmstrang lot to get involved if they haven't already."

"Story won' get out," Frederick assured him. "Won' be no survivors to tell tales, not when me and Charlie gets done. 'Sides you know they got to have wizards on that damn ship. No way in hell they could sink the Hood like that if they didn' have wizards on the Bismarck."

"So you're sure German wizards are on the Bismarck?"

"Damn sure, you know it too, Abe."

"Then won't they have their wands out and blast you out of the sky if you go out on brooms looking for them?"

The two men stared, bleary-eyed at one another. "Didn' think of that," Charlie muttered.

"Maybe think things through a li'l more," Frederick mumbled.

George Fletcher returned to Hogsmeade for the final quidditch game of the school year. He smiled to see Daniel walking normally and challenged the boy to a footrace from the door of the Hog's Head, around the church and back. Daniel won easily, and the panting man laughed and bought butter beers for the brothers and Albert.

The apothecary had less to laugh about on Saturday. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff both wanted to win very badly and avoid a year with three losses. But while Gryffindor still held the distinction of having the weakest beaters that year they were able to hold their own against Hufflepuff in the position, and at other positions Gryffindor enjoyed at least a slight edge. Minerva McGonagall and the other chasers put Gryffindor into a hundred and ten point lead before the Gryffindor seeker captured the snitch ending the game.

Eileen Prince came into the Hog's Head the day after the final banquet at Hogwarts to thank Aberforth for helping her with potions. "I was first in fourth year potions."

"Glad to hear it."

"Can you help me this fall, if there are other things that Hogwarts is out of?"

"I probably can," Aberforth assured her, "if I have what you need. But it's summer now. You and your sister stay safe and I'll see you in for fall term."

* * *

If you're unfamiliar with Enid Blyton you might read the Wikipedia entry. I'm hoping Agatha Christie requires no explanation. P.G. Wodehouse is a delightful author, whose books and short stories often focus on upper class young men without an ounce of gray matter in their craniums. He and his wife were living in France and captured by the Germans at the start of WWII. The Germans knew not to abuse a celebrity and Wodehouse agreed to do interviews with the Germans for radio broadcast. Wodehouse says nothing against Britain in the interviews, and even manages some gentle jabs at the Germans, but the very fact he was willing to give interviews brought his loyalty into question and he suffered a loss of popularity.

The Bismarck may have been the strongest ship of the European theater in World War II. The British needed a couple pieces of luck in the sinking of the Bismarck on May 27, 1941. And whether the German vessel truly went down because of the massive firepower Britain navy brought against it or because the German crew scuttled her to keep the ship from English hands isn't entirely clear.

Great War = World War I. First Boer War fought 1880-81. During the second Boer War, 1899-1902, the British faced a guerrilla insurgency. To separate the guerrillas from innocent civilians (and/or those who supplied them) the British army adopted an early use of concentration camps, isolating civilians in internment camps. While the intent was not harm those in the camps the logistics weren't in place to keep them fed and healthy and the death rate in the camps was appalling.


	8. Summer of '41

Unlike my Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from JK Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as my canon checker for my previous story. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

**Summer of '41**

Albus Dumbledore arranged for Rubeus Hagrid to spend the summer at the Plank farm. "His father's in the service. He has no place to go," the professor explained to Augustus.

"Surely he had relatives on his father's side who could take him in." There was obviously no point in asking about relatives on his mother's side.

"I wish that were true. But they wrote Tullius off because of the boy's mother, and none of them want anything to do with the boy."

"I've already got evacuees – in fact one more than I planned on having. I don't know what I'd do with him."

"Please, it's just for the summer. As soon as school starts he'll be back at Hogwarts."

"And his size! I'll bet he eats like a full-grown man, maybe more."

"His dad's in the service. Do you want our men in the field to think they can't trust the people back home to take care of their children? If your son, Flavius, had a son wouldn't you–"

"Flavius isn't married!"

"I'm just saying, put yourself in the place of poor Tullius. Off fighting for his country and his boy without a place to lay his head. Don't you have any compassion for–"

"Fine. He can stay here," Augustus snapped. "But just for the summer."

"Thanks. I knew I could count on you."

To the horror of Victoria Leffington rationing restrictions were extended to clothing early in June. Growing children, in theory, could have two new outfits a year. Adults would have to make do with a single new set of clothes a year. Owners of second-hand clothing shops and tailors could anticipate more business, but Vickie threw herself face down on her bed and cried in frustration. She wasn't certain if she could survive on two new outfits a month. Two a year? She didn't know where she should direct her anger, the Germans for starting the war or her own government for rationing clothing. They had fought the war for a year without rationing clothing, why was it necessary to start now?

On June 12 Britain unleashed Operation Battleaxe against General Rommel. It proved a disaster for the Commonwealth forces, losing almost half their tanks and a thousand casualties, including Mary's father.

An official notification arrived from the war department of Private Fisk's death. Mary spent another night on the lap of Portia Higgs, crying as the old woman rocked her. Both wondered at the unspoken question of what would happen to Mary at the war's end when she had no home to which she could return.

A few days after the British losses in North Africa a tired looking couple entered the Hog's Head. The two appeared to be in healthy middle age, but worn out from some sort of exertion. A raven sat on the man's shoulder. She carried two brooms, and he was laden with a heavy pack. Aberforth frowned slightly as he searched his memory, "Nicolas?"

"What happened to our house?" the man exclaimed.

"You didn't leave it with a good caretaker," Aberforth answered. "Some of the children are starting to think it's haunted."

"Why didn't someone write us?" Perenelle asked.

"Did you leave directions with anyone but the caretaker on how to contact you? He wasn't going to tell you what was happening. It's been a good twenty years since you left… I thought you were planning for fifty before you came back?"

"The war," Nicolas sighed. "Anything to eat? We had to fly the channel last night. We're exhausted."

"Sit down," Aberforth told them, pointing to a table near a window. "I'll see if anything's warm."

"Thank you," the woman murmured, and sank into a chair.

"We'll need a room for awhile," Nicolas Flamel called to the back of their host as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"After eating I plan to fly to London and check on my investments," the raven told them. "Is there any information you'd like?"

"No," the man groaned, massaging stiff leg muscles. "Flight will do you good, you're getting fat. You could have flown part of the way."

"I do not believe your broom found me an extra burden," the bird answered. "I wanted to keep my strength for an emergency."

"Like checking your bank balance," the woman laughed.

The bird shrugged its wings, "We all have our priorities."

The raven complained about the quality of the meal, and was reminded of wartime rationing restrictions and the fact they had arrived in mid-day.

"A poor reason to deny me a good meal," Munin complained before flying off.

The Flamels went to their room to rest after eating. In the evening they joined those gathered in the common room. The couple greeted a number of the older witches and wizards as acquaintances and were surprised at the presence of muggle children in the village. Julian Pilliwickle, in his capacity of Civil Defence Warden, questioned the couple. They reported seeing large-scale movements among German army units, but the movement didn't seem to be concentrating forcing in the west for a possible attack on England. Most of the movement seemed to be troops heading east. Julian made careful notes and sent an owl off to the Ministry as soon as he left the Hog's Head.

Word of the Flamels' arrival had reached Hogwarts, and Albus Dumbledore came in to talk with the couple. Aberforth headed towards the cellar. "Need to check on the new batch of ale," he told his wife

"You're not fooling me."

"I'm serious, Ellie. I won't have it spoil. I don't know how long it will take to make sure everything is right."

"I'll send one of the boys down when he leaves."

He nodded and winked, "Aye, I suspect that is exactly how long it will take."

Churchill had come to regard the wizard reports as second only to decoded German messages for accuracy. The decoded German messages were accurate, but could be cryptic. The information from wizards was accurate, but unsystematic and not always related to the questions the RAF, army, and navy wanted answers to. The bits of information from other sources: spies, counter-spies, and double-agents were sometimes accurate, sometimes misleading, and sometimes deliberate lies spread by the Nazis.

The movement of German troops was no secret. Some feared it was a shell-game, moving troops from one location to another to lull the English into complacency before launching an attack. Churchill had already decided he favored the theory that Hitler was calling off immediate plans to invade England and would redeploy them in German territory as a defensive move in case the Russians tried an attack on their eastern front. The United States believed Germany planned to invade the USSR. Churchill was reluctant to believe something he wished so fervently would come true. The mutual non-aggression pact between Germany and the USSR seemed to argue against it. Spies in the USSR saw no evidence Stalin planned an offensive, so Hitler did not need to redeploy for defense. Attack the Soviet Union? Napoleon had demonstrated the folly of that a century earlier and the Kaiser's army had been too wise to keep advancing. Churchill suspected that the reports suggesting Hitler planned an attack on the USSR might be a piece of German misdirection, and if misdirection - what were the real plans?

At the moment, however, the North Africa campaign represented the greater headache for the Prime Minister. If Rommel succeeded in capturing Alexandria the Commonwealth would be crippled. Access to petroleum for England would be cut off, as well as the best means of supplying troops in the colonies of the Far East. As he stared at the North African reports, desperate for anything on which he could place a hope, one of the phones on his desk gave a peculiar ring.

"Sounds like the bell's broke," an aide commented.

"Probably," Churchill agreed. "But just remembered a call I need to make. Strict privacy. I'll ask you all to leave the room for a minute."

Grumbling protests the men who were in the room with him left. "They're gone," he announced and the fireplace flared and Servius Fudge stepped into the room. "Please tell me you have something good to report."

Fudge didn't bother to mention the report of the Flamels; he knew the German movements were not news. "A vision about North Africa."

"Vision?"

"A witch with second sight. She–"

"This going to be any more reliable than my daily horoscope?"

The wizard drew himself up proudly, and his tone indicated he has been insulted, "I would not bother you unless I had every reason to believe her report was accurate. She seldom receives her insights, but her visions have never failed."

"Good news or bad?" the Prime Minister grunted.

"Good… It only extends for the next two months, but Alexandria will be safe during that period."

"And afterwards?"

"She can't say anything with confidence, but at the end of her vision things still looked good."

"Our army in Egypt's in trouble and the Germans have bases from which they can bomb us … I hope her vision is accurate, but it looks like we're in an impossible position."

The wizard hesitated, "I imagine you are too busy with the large picture to know the name of every special unit attached to the army."

"True enough," Churchill snorted.

"There's a special unit, called the Magic Gang–"

"Magic Gang? Some of your boys?"

"No, the German wizards can investigate all they want. There's a Lieutenant Jasper Maskelyne, stage magician before the war. He and his unit are going to pull very large rabbits out of their hats in Egypt."

Churchill sought clarification, "So, for the next two months at least, you're saying Egypt is safe?"

"I'm uncertain if safe is the best word, but it will remain in our hands."

"At the end of this vision, Egypt still looks secure?"

"Yes. She can't say anything about what happens after that with confidence, but our men will have a chance to re-organize and prepare their own defenses."

The Prime Minister sighed, "Well, that is good news. Thank you." He wasn't sure if he could believe the report. 'Visions' and 'prophecies' worried him, but it would help him sleep a little better. He made a mental note to ask about this so-called Magic Gang.

On June twenty-second three million Germans went into the USSR on Operation Barbarossa. The Americans had warned Stalin of the German plans but he had refused to accept the possibility – certain the Americans were trying to drive a wedge between him and the Germans.

Over the next few weeks the Germans pushed hundreds of miles into the Soviet Union. In the war rooms at Whitehall a weary Churchill was finally forced to accept the unacceptable. Britain would need the help of the USSR if there were to be any chance of defeating Germany.

As the war raged in Eastern Europe Albert Goldstein nervously raised a question at supper. "Can I go back to London?"

"Are you sure your father wants you to return?" Eleanor asked. "London is still very dangerous."

"I don't want to stay… I don't think he'd let me stay. But I want to go back for a few days, it's very important."

"What's so important?" Elijah asked.

"I'm going to be a Bar Mitzvah."

"What's that?" the young boy asked.

"It means son of the commandment. When you turn thirteen it's special in Judaism. You count as an adult. I really want to be at my synagogue."

"It's that important?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes, please can I go?"

"Have you asked your father?"

"No, I wanted to ask you first."

"Your father is more important. You need to write to him, you're not a prisoner here. If he wants you home you can go," Aberforth assured him. "I'm going to trust you to keep your mouth closed about Hogsmeade… And I'd best make some plans for your trip."

Albert wasn't sure what he meant, "You need to make plans? You want me to get something for you?"

"No, although that might be a good idea. Getting out of the station when you reach London, or returning here might not be easy for you. I want to make sure you can get back without any trouble."

Albert didn't really want to return to Hogsmeade, but he wouldn't say that to the Dumbledores. Nor did he include it in the letter he wrote to his father. The return letter from his father expressed nothing but joy at the prospect of seeing his son again.

Aberforth felt distinctly nervous as he sent off a pair of owls. He wondered if allowing muggle children into the village was really a good idea, even though he had voted to allow the evacuees, there was so much that could go wrong. Had he focused too much on their need for a place of refuge and not enough on the potential for problems they represented when they returned home? He drew a deep breath. The three boys staying with him were all good lads. They'd keep their mouths shut.

Flavius Plank needed the lengthy leave he was given in July after the missions he'd been flying. He headed home to spend it with his family and helping around the farm. His plans suffered a serious derailment soon after he got off the train. Flavius stopped at the Hog's Head for a pint after the long ride and before the hike out to the farm. A young witch he didn't recognize sat near the window with a book, reading and taking notes. "Who's she?" he whispered to Mrs. Spigot and jerked his head in the direction of the reader.

"Name's Grubbly. Teaches out at the school."

"Hogwarts?" The widow nodded her head. Flavius chuckled, "Didn't have any teachers who looked like that when… Grubbly? There was some witch in Hufflepuff... Can't be her."

"Now, I won't know, would I, Dearie," Mrs. Spigot answered. She gave him a wink, "You ought to go ask 'er."

A soft cough caused Wilhelmina Grubbly to look up from the book she was reading on dragons. A man in an RAF officer's uniform stood by the table, holding a pint.

"Excuse me, but I was wondering if I know you."

"That is a terrible line. And the answer is, no, you don't. You're Flavius Plank. You were in Gryffindor, three years ahead of me. You never said a word to me while I was at Hogwarts, and some of your friends did nothing but torment me and poor Anne Wildman."

"I was a brute," he agreed, putting his glass down on the table and pulling out a chair to sit down.

"I'm reading," she said coldly.

"But I need to apologize. Willy Grubbly… You've grown up very well."

"You haven't. I'm reading. Perhaps you don't recall the process, but it something best done without an audience."

"The day is much too nice for reading. Do you really teach at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, now–"

He grinned at her, "Why weren't there any teachers who looked like you when I was at school?"

She tried to turn back to her book, "You'd have been caned daily for flirting if there had been."

"I'm that bad at it?" he asked in a hurt tone.

"Yes, you are!"

"Can I practice on you?"

"No."

"Charms."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm trying to guess what you teach. I'm guessing charms. You're certainly enchanting."

"And you are simply exasperating."

"So it is charms?"

"No, I don't teach charms."

"History… No, too young to teach history. And how could the young wizards think about the past with you to look at?"

"Mr. Plank–"

"Mr. Plank is my father. You can call me Flav."

"Mr. Plank," she said firmly, "I do not–"

"Do they still call you Willy?"

"They call me Professor Grubbly."

"Runes? Astronomy? Divination? Am I getting warm?"

"You are leaving me cold. Is there anything I can do to get rid of you so I can get back to my reading?"

"Certainly," he told her cheerfully and stood up.

She felt a great sense of relief, and slight sense of disappointment.

"I'll pick you up at six-thirty," he promised.

"What?"

"Dress muggle."

"What are you talking about?"

"Our date tonight."

"Date tonight?"

"You asked if there was anything you could do to get rid of me now so you can read. I'll bring the carriage around at six-thirty."

"But–"

"Dancing in Little Easley."

"I didn't–"

"You wouldn't break your word to a man in uniform, would you?"

"When I asked if–"

"You did say anything. I heard you distinctly."

"Well, yes. But–"

He headed for the door, "Six-thirty."

She stared in disbelief as he grabbed the duffle he had left beside the door and exited the Hog's Head. "Anne is never going to believe this," she whispered to herself.

Flavius divided his waking hours over leave roughly equally among taking Professor Grubbly to Little Easley for the cinema or dancing, walking with her in the woods behind the Plank farm and talking of magical creatures, and sitting in the common room of the Hog's Head and keeping her from reading. Wilhelmina told herself he probably flirted like that with every woman he met, and she did not allow herself to consider him serious in his attentions. But it was flattering to have a handsome man pay attention to her.

It was during their first walk in the woods to look for unicorns… He had suggested they look for unicorns, but he had no intention of looking for unicorns even as he made the suggestion, that he realized Wilhelmina had a brain in her head. He had thought it a distinct possibility when he heard she was teaching at Hogwarts, but had been willing to overlook the defect in her character – after all, it didn't show when they were dancing. To his wonder he found it made her even more attractive in his eyes.

Professor Grubbly found Flavius Plank as vain and full of himself as he had been back in Hogwarts. But the year had been lonely with so many eligible males in the service. The attention of a handsome wizard, even if she didn't trust his intentions, was still extremely gratifying. She would not allow herself to be seriously interested in him. While there was nothing wrong with her looks she regarded herself as average. Men wanted beautiful women. She did not believe this was some cruel trick on his part, but it was likely the way he behaved towards all witches and women and she would not be heartbroken over a summer romance that meant nothing to him. She had to admit, however, that in their long conversations she had found greater depth in him than she expected.

He asked her to dinner at his parent's farm twice so his mother and father could meet her. That did not go as well as Flavis planned. The huge boy who was staying there did nothing but ask her questions and talk about what a wonderful teacher she was, it was rather disconcerting.

She stood with him on the station platform on the day he was to return to London.

They made small talk as the train prepared to leave. The doors on the freight cars were slammed shut and the conductor looked at his watch, checking the time before departure. Flavius suddenly asked, "Willy?"

"How many times do I have to ask you to stop calling me that?"

He grinned, "Would you do anything to make me stop?"

"You're a dangerous man. No, I will make no such offer. What do you want?"

"Marry me." She stared in disbelief. "Will you marry me?" he asked again.

"No."

"Why not?"

"There's a war on."

"Still lots of people getting married."

"It is not a reason to rush into marriage."

"So, when the war is over you'll marry me?"

"I said no such thing."

"But when I asked you to marry me the excuse you gave is the war."

"You are vain, egotistical, and thoroughly exasperating," she pointed out.

"But I have my good points."

"Those are your good points."

He grinned, "But you are a saint, and you love me despite my faults. And I love you." Then he kissed her, right there on the Hogsmeade station platform where anyone could see them.

She put her arms around him without thinking, holding on to the moment until the call of "All aboard!" and the sound of the train starting to pull away from the station caused him to end the kiss, sprint for the train, and swing himself onto the platform.

"I love you!" he shouted back and waved.

Still in a state of shock she returned the wave. "Come back safe," she said softly. _"Anne will never believe this."_ She wasn't certain if she believed it herself, and she had come closer to saying 'yes' than seemed imaginable. _"He'd better not be saying that to all the women he meets."_

Shorty before Albert's planned departure for London Aberforth asked him, "Do you know a shop called Honig's on Brent Street?"

"Yes. My mother shops there for… Why?"

"Go there when it's time to come back here. They're a wizarding family and–"

Albert looked puzzled, "I thought the Honigs were Jewish."

"They are, least that's what I've been told. There are Jewish wizards. I sent them an owl asking if I could tell you about them, and if they could get you back on the train."

"I know how to catch a train."

"Not the one to Hogsmeade. I've told them you're a smart lad and know how to keep your mouth shut. They'll help you find the express to Hogsmeade."

Albert stared out the window of the train on the long trip to London. He could see little evidence of war as he watched the countryside roll by. It felt good to be going home. The hope came back to him, maybe he could stay in London; many children had not left the city. Maybe he could stay at his own home. He wanted to eat the food he knew. Even if his mother was not there to light candles on Shabbat he wanted to go to synagogue and daven with father. He wanted to sleep in his own bed, in his own room, in his own house. The Dumbledores and other people of Hogsmeade tried to be nice to him, but it was strange and alien to him, he longed for the familiar.

While he had seen few signs of the war as he traveled south things were different in London. A witch glided over to him as he stepped from the train. He looked around for an exit, and couldn't see one. "Albert Goldstein?"

"Yes."

"I'm to help you to the street."

As he stood on the street he tried to remember how he got there as he shouted thanks to the departing witch and found a taxi. It did not surprise him that he could not remember.

The driver eyed him with suspicion as he gave an address in Hendon. "You're a bit young, ain't you, lad?"

"Yes, Sir. I was evacuated. I'm home for a few days." Albert knew the city well enough to protest in a few blocks when the driver made a turn he didn't expect. "This isn't the way!"

The driver pointed to a barricade across the street with a large sign, 'Danger UXB.'

"UXB?"

"Unexploded bomb. Some what they drop don't go off right at first. They got units that go 'round and dig 'em out and try to defuse 'em."

"Try to defuse them?"

"Sometimes they gets 'em all safe like; sometimes they go off while the officer is workin' on 'em."

They passed the bombed out shell of a synagogue on their way to Albert's home. It wasn't the synagogue where his family attended, but he knew families that worshipped there. Albert's stomach knotted with fear. Did he still have a home? Had his synagogue been destroyed also?

His father hugged him fiercely when he arrived home. "It is good to see you, my son."

"It's wonderful to be home. Can I stay? Do I have to go back?"

"I love you. I want you to be safe."

"You're here. You think it's safe for you."

"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of us. I do what I have to do, and my job is here. We can't allow Hitler to win. There are stories… I don't know if they're true… The Germany army is massacring Jews. Lehi in Palestine. It–"

"Lehi?"

"I'll explain later. This isn't a moment for worry, it is a moment to rejoice."

Albert didn't argue or, for the moment, ask to remain. He simply felt happy being home. They ate out that night. "I eat out every night," his father told him. "With your mother gone I'm useless in the kitchen."

Albert smiled, "Even if mother were here you'd still be useless in the kitchen."

"But what would it matter? She and your sister are doing well, thank God. How are you? Are there things you don't put in your letters? Are you being treated well?"

"The Dumbledores treat me well. They're good people and try their best. But I miss you and our neighborhood and the shul. Please, I want to stay."

His father smiled sadly, "And I miss you. But I want you to be safe. If, God forbid, something should happen to me, who would be there for your mother and sister? I need you safe."

He spent that night with his father, and hundreds of others, in a subway station. The sounds of the air raid sirens frightened him. "It's a good night for us," his father whispered, to not disturb those sleeping around them.

"A good night?"

"I don't hear any bombs. The East End has taken a terrible beating. We're safer here."

Albert did not feel safe. He did feel pride the next day as the ark was opened and he was called to the Torah. The synagogue felt strangely empty with the children and most of the women gone. There were men there he didn't recognize, probably from the bombed synagogue. The gabbi pointed with a yad to the beginning of the Torah parsha and Albert began to chant. When he looked up his father was crying. "That was beautiful," his father told him at the end of the service. "You made me proud beyond words."

"Today I am a man," Albert smiled.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have a proper party for you… I promise, when the war is over you'll have the party you deserve."

"Can I ask the Flint brothers?"

"Those boys you live with? Of course. It will be your party. Anyone you want of the evacuees… You can ask the Dumbledores if you wish."

Albert hugged his father, "Thanks."

That night, back in the subway station, Albert did not ask to stay in London. He remained through the Sabbath, then walked to Honig's.

A heavyset man looked up when the bell hanging on the door tinkled, "Albert Goldstein?"

"Yes… How did you know? Was that magic?"

"There aren't many young people coming to the shop these days. And I've been expecting you. And the bundles you have say you want to go back to Hogsmeade."

"I don't know if they say I want to go back. But I'm ready to go back. I wish I could stay here, but my father said I should go."

"Always listen to your father. It is hard for a parent to send a child away. But it will give him peace of mind. I'll have my daughter take you to the station. Oh, and I have a package for you to carry. You know of Aberforth's love for potions?"

"Yes."

"As long as you're going back he asked me for some things. I couldn't fill all his order. It's impossible to find some things with the war. And the prices?" The merchant rolled his eyes in disbelief. The man turned and called, "Tzippy!" and a pretty young woman in her twenties came through the curtains at the back of the shop. "My daughter, Zipporah," the merchant explained. "She left Hogwarts a few years ago. Tzippy, this is the Goldstein boy staying at the Hog's Head. You need to get him on the train."

She smiled at him and Albert decided he was in love. It took him a minute to realize she had actually spoken to him, asking if she could help him carry something. He was going to tell the Flint brothers he had seen the most beautiful girl in the world when he got back to the Hog's Head.

With his bundles around him Albert stared out the window on the way north. He had walked through a wall! There was a wall at the station, and he had walked through it! He wondered if the merchant didn't know the earlier memories had been removed. Maybe the Dumbledores would make him forget. Maybe the Dumbledores had decided he could be trusted. Maybe Mr. Honig had meant it as a bar mitzvah present. Should he tell anyone? He would probably tell the Flint brothers. Even the thrill of seeing a pretty girl was nothing compared to the miracle he had witnessed.

With the additional bundle Albert had to ask for help from another evacuee playing near the station to carry everything to the Hog's Head.

Everyone was glad to see him, and demanded to hear what news he had from the city. Only after half an hour of telling them of sleeping in subway stations and unexploded bombs did Albert remember, "Mr. Honig sent this for you," and handed the bundle over.

Aberforth untied the strings and set some small jars and bags on the table and then pulled out a black case of a familiar shape and size. He handed it to the Jewish boy, "This is yours. Daniel and Elijah said we should get you something."

The boy's fingers were shaking as he opened the case and stared at the brand new clarinet. There was a long silence before Elijah asked, "Well? What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," Albert whispered in a reverential tone. He still hadn't touched it; afraid it might not be real.

"You've been saying how yours was all worn out," Daniel reminded him. Albert said nothing.

"Are you going to play something, dear?" Eleanor asked.

Albert quickly assembled the sections. The first note was awful. "Reed is stiff," he apologized. "Give me a minute."

At supper that evening Albert told the Dumbledores, "I'm not going to eat pork any more."

"Eh?" Aberforth asked. "Thought your dad told you to clean your plate."

"I was a child then. I did what I was told. Now that I'm a man I have to decide things for myself. It's what I decided on the trip back."

"But you'll still eat other meat?" Eleanor asked for clarification.

Albert hesitated, "Yes… It's not kosher because it wasn't killed right. But the rabbis in the Talmud say you don't have to follow the rules if it will harm you. That was what my father told me when I came. I don't think giving up pork will hurt me. I want to do it."

"If that's what you want, dear," Eleanor assured him.

"Whole diet thing is damn foolish, if you ask me," Aberforth said as he helped himself to marrow, "but your religion, your choice, I'll do my best to respect it."

"And you mustn't tease the boy," Eleanor scolded her husband.

"I promised to do my best," Aberforth reminded her. "Perfection is beyond me." Everyone at the table laughed.

The next week Albert asked Mrs. Higgs for lessons so that he could perform better for the Christmas Eve program. She peered into his eyes, "You are a deceitful young man."

"What? Jews aren't–"

"This has nothing to do with you being Jewish. I read character… No, I do not read minds."

"Then how did you know–"

"It is the first thing most people think when I tell them I read character. Tell me, why you are really asking for lessons? The truth."

"That girl who played the saxophone?"

"Adrianna. Yes, what about her?"

"I want her to admit I play better."

Portia thought for a minute, then sighed. "We all look after our own selfish interests. Young man, my selfish interest is that I would like special music other Sunday mornings during the year. If you will–"

"Every Sunday?" Albert whined.

"More likely once a month. Perhaps not that often. I need to present my idea to the Worship Committee. They might even tell me no. But may I count on you?" She extended a boney hand, and Albert solemnly shook hands to seal the bargain.

After lessons Albert sometimes stayed around the Higgs home for a time before returning to the Hog's Head, becoming better acquainted with Shirley, Mary, and Judy. He only knew Judy's voice from the Christmas Eve service, and was delighted to find she also loved popular music.

Rubeus was sometimes allowed to tag along when Holly went into the forest to talk with Firenze. Several times the centaur asked if Mary could come out to the forest. She wasn't certain if the creature believed her stories of London or not, but he smiled as she told them and obviously found them vastly entertaining. Being a good girl Mary was not allowed out after dark on a few warm, clear nights during the summer when Holly and Rubeus would lie on the soft grass in the forest clearing and stare up at the stars as the centaur told them the secrets of the constellations, of their motions and meaning.

Late in August British and Indian troops invaded neutral Iran from the south, with the Soviets occupying the north of the country in September. After ousting the existing government they set up a regime which promised to continue selling oil to the British and keep Persian Corridor open so that military supplies could reach the beleaguered Soviets.

* * *

Yarn was not immediately rationed, but was rationed later. Most socks were still knitted by hand, and you didn't have a drawer filled with them. If you wore a hole in a sock it would probably be darned. Sewing baskets usually had a darning egg to help with the repair. Today we are more likely to throw out a sock with a hole – we have thirty other pairs. Not only is the term 'darning egg' unfamiliar to most people today, but even the phrase 'sewing basket' may sound unfamiliar.

Rationing only covered food you bought to eat at home. If you ate meals at restaurants you didn't need to use ration coupons. The poor complained, rightly, that it meant the wealthy didn't suffer as much from rationing as they did. The lot of the wealthy is always easier than lot of the poor, in war as well as peace. The government wanted restaurants, and theaters, and other signs of normal life to remain open and functioning as much as possible during the war.

The US had Civil Defense, the British Civil Defence. The British should learn how to spell the English language.

The work of the Magic Gang should neither be underestimated nor exaggerated. The diversion of German attention – troops and supplies – to the Russian front was a factor in the eventual triumph of the Commonwealth in North Africa. But the Germans felt free to divert attention elsewhere because they thought the English had no hope of survival in Egypt. Maskelyne and his unit hid Alexandria from German bombers, disoriented bombers targeting the Suez Canal, and misdirected German attention from the scene of General Montgomery's actual offensive. Their efforts were major contributions to the eventual Allied success in North Africa.

The role of the regular German army in the Final Solution remains controversial. Many/Most of the massacres were committed by special SS units. The regular army was often at least complicit in allowing massacres, and some units of the regular army played an active role in the mass-murder of civilians. Some army officers were so outraged by the murder of civilians they organized the Valkyrie plot and attempted to assassinate Hitler. After the war the US embraced ex-Nazis as allies in the Cold War and generally downplayed the role of the regular army in what happened – blaming it all on the SS.

Lehi takes more to explain than I want to put in a conversation in the story. Skip this paragraph if you don't want a history lesson. Albert's dad might have said Lehi, most in Britain would have referred to it as the Stern Gang. And Albert's dad would have questioned their tactics and feared anti-Semitic reactions in Britain because of them. During World War I the English promised Arabs who fought against the Ottoman Turks that they would be given self-determination. (See Lawrence of Arabia. The Ottoman Turks joined Germany and the Central Powers in WWI because anyone fighting Russia was clearly a friend.) At the same time the Brits promised Jews living in Palestine they had the right to a homeland. The Brits lied to both as they sat down with France and divided the region into mandates and protectorates for themselves. (Couldn't call them colonies – sounds too imperialistic.) Freedom fighters / Insurgencies / Terrorist groups (depending on your perspective) sprang up to drive the Brits out. In part to placate unhappy Arabs the English attempted to cut off Jewish immigration to Palestine at the very time when thousands wanted to flee Hitler. (Placating Arabs was not the only reason. Anti-Semitism and a claimed fear of possible German spies (which might be merely an excuse) were enough reason for the US to refuse Jewish refugees on the ship _MS St Louis_ in 1939 – the majority were returned to Europe, where they died in Hitler's Final Solution.) Jewish groups in Palestine, such as Irgun, fought British policy before the war. In 1940 Avraham Stern made overtures to Hitler, suggesting the Palestinian Jews would help the Nazis in return for Hitler letting German Jews immigrate to Palestine. As WWII intensified the Irgun ceased attacks on the British, Hitler was the true foe. Stern broke with Irgun in June 1941, declaring that Lehi would continue to attack the British in Palestine. Many of those murdered by the Stern Gang were Jews who opposed their tactics. The nation of Israel later called the members of Lehi heroes, not the first nor last country to call murderers and terrorists heroes. (Terrorists, whether Jewish, Muslim, Protestant, Catholic, Hindu, or White Supremacists are not the best examples of their religion/race and should not be thought of as normative.) Given how many lies had been told of German atrocities in WWI it was difficult for many to believe the stories of Nazi massacres were true.

Marrow = squash.

Iran viewed the Russians and English as the two greatest threats to regional peace and security. The Shah knew Iran was in no position to fight either country, and wanted to keep his nation neutral. When he refused British orders to expel German nationals (he was neutral, after all, and that meant anyone should be able to stay in Iran) the Brits and Soviets saw him as a threat to their national interests and launched their joint invasion. The Shah appealed to the US, reminding FDR of the Allies' claim to support justice and liberty in the face of armed aggression. His petition for support was ignored.


	9. Autumn 1941  Unusual Delicacies

This contains characters from Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. However a story set fifty years earlier lacks many characters from Rowling's series.

I revised my initial posting. Imablack pointed out something I knew, but had failed to include. Additionally, she furnished her understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as best I could here.

Reviews coveted.

**Autumn 1941 - Unusual Delicacies **

A light rain fell through the day when the Hogwarts students arrived in Hogsmeade for the start of a new school year. The evacuees were largely indoors, the excitement of the first year of new student arrivals had slipped into complacency after a year of living in the village. Selective Service had been extended to women, and two of the seventh years witches who had been expected to return to the school did not because they had been drafted.

Given the wet conditions and fact the muggles had seen quidditch played on flying brooms there seemed no point in hiding the phaetons. The carriages were lined up for the returning students when the train pulled in. House elves were a different matter, still kept from the evacuees, and the hay wagons were drawn up at the station once again to take student trunks back to the school.

Rubeus Hagrid, eager for the return to classes, stood with the men waiting for the train under the shelter of the station roof. When the train came to a stop he grabbed trunks as they were unloaded and lifted them onto the wagons.

Basil Gray, Hagrid's fellow second year Gryffindor, wanted to find his friend Rubeus, but didn't look at the men loading trunks. After a quarter of an hour of fruitless search in the village he returned to the station and saw his friend "Rube! How was the summer?"

"In a minute, got to help here."

Basil stood to one side for a minute, waiting for his large friend. He watched Rubeus lifting trunks with one hand that, without a hover charm, would have required two adult wizards to lift – and he saw the expressions on the men's faces when Rubeus wasn't looking. "Rube, c'mon. Evans bakery. I'm buying. I want to hear about your summer."

"In a minute, I–"

"Now!" Basil ordered in a voice that made Hagrid stop after handing one more trunk onto a wagon.

The huge boy assumed his friend had a problem he needed to talk about, "Are you all right?" he whispered as the two took the path to the bakery.

"You shouldn't have been doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Loading trunks."

"Why? I was helping."

"You were scaring the hell out of those men."

"What?"

Basil repeated it slowly for emphasis; "You were scaring those men with your strength."

"I was just trying to help."

"I know that. But they see you and… You know."

"Yeah," Rubeus nodded glumly. "I know."

The rain fell harder as they headed towards the bakery, and they dashed the last fifty yards. By then faster students had already cleared out much of the stock, but the two made their purchases and stayed inside the bakery, leaning against the wall as they ate and looked out the window at the rain.

"I want to try out for seeker this year," Basil told his friend. "Les wasn't that great last year. I think I can get the position."

Rubeus shrugged, "Everyone wants to be seeker. Hope you make it."

"And beaters. We were terrible last year in the beater position. You need to try out Rube. You're so strong you'd do great."

"It's not just strength."

"You're fast enough. You're smart enough."

"I don't think I should."

"Gryffindor needs you."

"My dad wouldn't like it. He wants me to study."

"Your dad would be proud if you made it."

"I can't."

"You'd be great!"

Rubeus was silent for a minute, "You were telling me the men at the station were afraid of me?"

Basil understood his friend's point. "Those are the locals in town. They don't know you. Out at school we know you're normal."

"I'm not normal. That's the point. What if I hurt someone?"

"You wouldn't hurt anyone. Not on purpose anyway."

"Isn't that part of being a beater, trying to knock the bludger into a player on the other team?"

"It's a game. That's part of the game. No one thinks anything about it."

"If you knock a bludger into someone," Rubeus told his friend, "no one thinks anything about it. It's different for me."

Basil opened his mouth to argue. First, he would point that he was small enough it was unlikely he'd ever serve as beater. And second… Basil shut his mouth without saying a word and patted his friend on the shoulder. "Sorry, Rube. You're right."

A couple weeks later, as Gryffindor held quidditch tryouts some other students pressured Rubeus to try for a position as beater. Some didn't want to take no for an answer. Basil defended his friend without going into the real reason for the reluctance. "Come on, where would we get a broom that could carry the big guy?" he joked. "Besides, Rube wants to be top student in the second years. Even if you got him in the air his mind would be on charms or transfigurations."

In Hogsmeade Victoria Leffington continued to receive new dresses from London with a regularity which convinced many in the village that her parents dealt on the black market.

Actually Edward Leffington had a large storeroom filled with bolts of cloth used in the manufacture of prams before the war. The material was already his, bought and paid for, and nothing was being diverted away from the war effort if he hired a seamstress to produce outfits for Vickie. Even though he knew he had every legal right to use his property in the manner he saw fit Mr. Leffington still felt slightly guilty about the surrender to his daughter's demands in a time of national crisis. He partly assuaged his guilt by vowing to purchase no new clothes for himself until the end of the war. He would have leather patches sewn to the elbows of his suit jackets if they wore through. He also thought his willingness to make do set a good example for the help in the factory.

Vickie still found cause for complaint. "Everything is out-of-fashion. What are the new styles in London?"

"There are no new styles," her mother reminded her by return letter. "There is a war on. England has no time for new styles. France is occupied and Italy under the horrid Mussolini. And there is no point in even mentioning Russia and Germany when one speaks of fashion."

At Hogwarts three of the houses scrambled again to fill holes in their quidditch teams. Slytherin knew their new keeper could not fill the Mad Queen's shoes, but he practiced hard and the rest of the team felt confident they could win all three games again – and this time they hoped for the cup.

Ravenclaw had lost Roberta Lennox from their quidditch team, and the advantage she provided. The first game of the year saw the weakened Ravenclaw facing the more seasoned Slytherin. Slytherin had suffered in the previous year from not having a worthy Senior beater, but Bear had done the best he could. After a summer of practice he had reached a higher level of play. Their second year keeper had no experience, but the chasers would do their best to control the quaffle and keep him from being overwhelmed. Slytherin dominated the game from the initial run on hoops and had a solid lead even before Ferret caught the Snitch ending the game.

In the second quidditch game of the term the Gryffindor beaters felt some resentment towards their own house members for the way they had urged anyone else to try out for the position. The two had been drafted by Gryffindor the year before as the best available when the experienced players had joined the military. Yes, they had done poorly. But they had done the best they could, and they had practiced hard all year. The two wanted to show the rest of their house that they deserved the position. Hufflepuff lost almost as decisively to Gryffindor as Ravenclaw had lost to Slytherin in the first game.

A dragon problem arose in October. A young male Hebridean black, probably seeking to fatten up before winter hibernation, killed two cattle on a farm near Mallaig and appeared eager to establish the region for its own territory. A number of villagers from Hogsmeade and three professors from Hogwarts traveled north to kill the creature and use memory charms on any Scots who had seen the monster.

The question, of course, after the dragon had been dispatched, was what to do with the carcass. Dragon blood had uses in several potions and Aberforth filled several kegs with the thick fluid. Dragon hide was incredibly durable, and the creature was skinned. Dragon sinews could be used in wand cores, and because the teeth were considered potentially dangerous they were carefully collected and given to Professor Merrythought for disposal. Aberforth also managed to claim the tongue, which would be pickled and sliced thin for sandwiches. The heart was also something of a prize, but hundreds of pounds of meat, bones, and organs remained. It would be necessary to cut the carcass up before anything could be done. Some suggested dumping the parts into Loch Morar or the ocean for the fish. Others pointed out that while dragon suffered from a gamey taste, it was not a rationed meat and it was meat. Getting it back to Hogsmeade wouldn't be easy, but a dragon roast would probably provide enough meat for everyone at the village and school to eat their fill.

In Hogsmeade a building was located to temporarily convert to a large smokehouse. Munin, the raven, begged to be given the eyeballs. No one felt any obligation to the bird, but no one else expressed a desire for them and he was awarded what he alone regarded as a delicacy. The Hogwarts librarian found a recipe for dragonwurst, and the various organs, except for the heart, were ground with the fat, gristle, and various meat scraps left over from the butchering and mixed with spices and cracked barley, then packed into the small intestine of the dragon. Individual sausages were twisted into the casing at lengths about the size of a man's forearm. A few villagers claimed ancient family recipes for spice rubs that improved the flavor of dragon and after the meat was brined in large vats they prepared three of the joints according to their traditions. The meat with prepared rubs, plain meat, and sausage links were hung in the old barn, the windows and doors sealed, and the fires lit in the oven which had been hastily constructed outside the barn to smoke the meat.

"Five days," Aberforth predicted to the group of men gathered around the smoker as the fire reached the proper level to start the slow cooking process.

Augusts Plank looked over at Julius Jenkinson, proprietor of the Three Broomsticks, who could usually be counted on the disagree with Aberforth – although neither man took their rivalry too seriously, "Well, JJ?"

"Going to have to circle this day on my calendar," Julius remarked, "I do believe Mister Dumbledore is right. First time for everything."

Aberforth was the only man at the village Julius addressed as Mister, a reminder of the fact he was considerably younger than the proprietor of the Hog's Head.

"If there's really a first time for everything," Aberforth remarked, "then maybe he'll be right one of these… And it's today. The pup agreed with me."

Several men laughed.

"It'll probably be a good day for the Hog's Head," Julian Pilliwickle commented. "Lot of folk will be needing some ale to wash down dragon."

"Might go through a barrel," Aberforth agreed.

"Only because you're so close," JJ argued. "If the Broomsticks was closer I'd be selling more."

"You could sell it on the grounds," Abe snorted, "and I'd sell more."

"Might just do that," JJ threatened. "I'll set up an awning on the east side of the Green and bring in a barrel of my best."

"To really be fair," Augustus Plank commented, "Abe ought to have a barrel out there too."

"I'm game," Aberforth agreed. He turned to Julius, "Well, Pup? Wager a galleon on whose barrel is emptied first?"

JJ thought for a minute, "We ask same price for a pint?"

Abe nodded, "I say we sell at cost of ingredients. This is a party for the village."

"I accept," JJ told him, and the men standing with them cheered. "Oh, one more condition," Julius added. I want to check your barrel before we start. The only way you could win is if you start with a barrel half empty."

Abe chuckled, then growled, "We should have made it two galleons, Pup."

By the third day the smell of smoked meat filled the village, and drifted out as far as the Hart farm in one direction and Hogwarts in the other.

Albert suffered a small ethical dilemma. Dragon was certainly tref. On the other hand, the beef and chicken he ate was tref because it wasn't slaughtered properly and he was willing to eat that. He had made a promise not to eat pork, and dragon was not pork. When in his life would he ever have another chance to taste dragon?

In folklore eating the heart of a dragon bestowed the ability to understand the speech of animals. The tradition was known to be false, but eating dragon heart was still considered good luck. The dragon-roast committee agreed the heart would be divided into twenty-four portions and raffled off. Twelve portions to Hogwarts, twelve to the village. Two-thirds of the proceeds would go to a cause or charity connected to the war, selected by the Women's Mission Society. A third would be donated to the village library, for the purchase of more books or perhaps towards an addition.

The cost of raffle tickets was kept low, only two knuts each, and since the proceeds went to good causes some bought more than a hundred to increase their chances.

Tom Riddle chafed over his poverty at Hogwarts. He knew there was nothing to the legend of eating the heart giving special abilities, but he wanted a slice of heart. He was the heir of Slytherin. He knew it. He would be the greatest wizard since his ancestor. And he didn't have two knuts of his own to rub together. Bear and Ferret offered to buy raffle tickets for him. Others in his circle offered him tickets. He refused them all. He wouldn't accept their charity. It would be an admission of his inferior station. He was half-tempted to ridicule those who bought tickets for engaging in silly superstition, but he knew he'd do anything to have a share. He couldn't very well denounce those who wanted a slice of heart and then have a slice himself if some means presented itself.

The winning tickets for the faculty and students of the dragon heart lottery were announced Friday morning at Hogwarts. It gave those with winning tickets a day to gloat – and see what offers might be made to them.

Saturday morning dawned clear. On Friday evening some of the men had set up the awning for the ale concession on the east side of the village green, and a second for the church's Women's Mission Society which offered tea, potatoes: boiled, baked, and mash, and chicory salad was erected near the church. The honorable and honorary order of the husbands of the Women's Mission Society were out at dawn, setting up tables. Julian Pilliwickle in his assumed position of running everything in the village was everywhere at once, and usually in the way. When Aberforth arrived with a barrel of ale held aloft with a _Wingardium Leviosa_ spell JJ had already arrived at the ale tent with his barrel. The two men carefully measured each other's barrels to see they were full, then tapped the barrels.

Aberforth filled a mug and handed the pint to JJ, "Here Pup, this is what it's supposed to taste like."

The proprietor of the Three Broomsticks quickly filled a mug and handed it over to Abe before accepting the offered pint, "I shouldn't give you this," he apologized. "It'll make you feel bad about what you're trying to sell." The two men touched their mugs together, then drank deep of the other's ale. JJ wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "Not bad… Not as good as mine, but not bad at all."

Aberforth nodded, "The very thing I was going to say to you."

The dragon roast wasn't to begin for a couple more hours, but the men who had been setting up tables gathered by the ale tent hopefully, and were not disappointed.

Around nine the fire was quenched, the barn unsealed and the huge joints and slabs of meat along with the oversized sausage were hauled out to the trestle tables set up on the Green and carved into reasonably-sized portions.

The dragon roast was officially scheduled to start at ten in the morning, but evacuees and villagers started trickling in at half pass nine. However, the Women's Mission Society was not as organized and they should have been and didn't declare the start until a quarter after ten. Since serving the portions of dragon heart was something of an opening ceremony, however, and the students and faculty of Hogwarts didn't arrive until almost eleven the men at the tables laden with dragon meat kept saying 'no' to requests for early samples.

Julian Pilliwickle announced the winning tickets for the townspeople who had won portions of dragon heart, while Headmaster Dippet performed the task for the winning tickets in the school's lottery. Slytherin students applauded wildly when Tom Riddle went forward with a winning ticket for a share.

"How'd he get that?" Bear whispered to Ferret as their friend went forward.

"Don't know," the Slytherin seeker answered.

Later, when questioned, Tom would not tell them. Remaining silent added to the air of mystery around him – let them guess what powers he might have used. Actually Tom did not want it known he had been reduced to agreeing to write a potions paper for a Ravenclaw who had purchased so many tickets he had actually won three portions. Tom hated to work for anyone else and did not want it known. And finally, the student who had hired Riddle to cheat for him could hardly pass the paper off as his own if everyone knew Tom was going to write something for him.

Very few truly enjoyed the taste of dragon. But it was a day to spend with friends before the cold weather arrived to keep everyone indoors. And even if few found the taste of dragon a delicacy almost all found it edible. Albert was pleased to find he didn't like the taste of dragon, avoiding temptation is vastly easier when the temptation is very small to begin with. In his opinion the dragonwurst might have been passable, if the garlic level had been multiplied many times over.

Nicolas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore got into a discussion of the uses for dragon blood. "Heard some students saying, oh, about a hundred years ago, that maybe we don't know as much as we think we know about a lot of magic. I've wondered if there isn't more to dragon blood than we already know," Professor Flamel said.

Professor Dumbledore looked thoughtful, "I've had similar thoughts. Never had enough time to test out some theories I have."

"You've thought about it? Have theories?"

"Indeed."

"I've got a lot of free time 'til the war is over. Can I help test some of your ideas?"

"That sounds… I'm not sure how much dragon blood we'll need."

Nicolas laughed, "You can ask that? Today? Come with me, we're talking to your brother."

Aberforth had no time to run when he heard the hail of, "Abe!" and looked up to see his brother in tow behind Nicolas Flamel. The two brothers stood in uncomfortable silence as the ancient asked about the purchase of a keg of dragon blood. "If the school won't put up the money, I'll pay for it myself," Nicolas promised.

Aberforth shrugged and limited his conversion to Nicolas, "I suppose. Don't know that there's anything else to find – but it's your money and your time."

"Want to work with us?"

"Eh?"

"Want to work with us," Nicolas repeated. "Everyone knows of your skill with potions. It would be marvellous to have you working with us." Like many at the village and school Professor Flamel didn't know the real reasons for the brothers being estranged, and also like many he hoped rapprochement might be possible. "What do you say?"

"Need to say thank you for the invitation. I'm no scholar. I just keep a public house and putter around a little with–"

"No false modesty," Nicolas insisted. "You're one of the best in the country. Everyone knows it."

"I'm just too busy with the Hog's Head and Evacuee Committee. Thank you for asking, but I really need to beg off."

"If you change your mind, you're always welcome. I hope you know that."

"Much obliged for the invitation. I'll keep that in mind."

"And will we be able to buy some dragon blood?"

"Certainly… You really think you'll need a keg?"

"Hard to tell. Can't be sure of any success, but can count of plenty of failure. If we give up early the school will be happy for anything left. Last I knew the third years used a lot before the year was over."

"Curriculum hasn't changed much," Albus said softly. "Still true."

"There," Nicolas said firmly. "I'll pick it up some day this week. Your brother and I will need to decide where we'll work."

"And I need to get back to my ale," Aberforth told them, excusing himself.

If the meeting of the two brothers had been frosty it had at least remained civil. Not all encounters at the dragon roast managed to retain the claim to civility.

The students at Hogwarts were primarily from the families of privilege in the wizarding community. Most of them saw the money and power their families possessed as making them better than the average wizard or witch. An endowment fund allowed those with little money, but great ability, to attend the school. Some supported by the endowment felt inferior in their position of want. Others saw it proudly as recognition of their talent and ability.

But wealthy and privileged or poor but brilliant the students of Hogwarts tended to look down on the youth of Hogsmeade who did not attend their school. And the evacuees were viewed as vastly beneath the villagers.

The Dicks all suffered from a strong habitual dislike of anyone with a superior attitude. They had come to accept orders from Pericles Hart first because he paid them, but more importantly because he'd never asked them to do work he wasn't willing to do himself. The Dicks had come to the roast straight from chores, and were dressed in overalls Alice Hart had sewn for them from feed sacks. There was still a bit of cow manure clinging to their Wellies.

Blackie and Bear jostled each other as they both reached for the same slice of dragonwurst. Words were exchanged - mostly from Bear in regard to the overalls. The words were followed by a shove followed by several more, with responsibility shared equally between the two. Soon fists were being used, and fellow Slytherins came to Bear's aid, and the rest of the Dicks weighed in on Blackie's side. Other Hogwarts students and more village children and evacuees soon had a giant scrum threatening to knock over tables.

Albus Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel pulled wands and fired into the air. The explosions echoed over the village and professors and villagers waded into the warring mass to separate the two sides. Brutus Poppins was especially effective, grabbing youths with either hand and throwing Hogwarts students in the direction of the school and evacuees and villagers in the other direction. "Stay put," he growled.

Eventually the adults reached the center of the storm and, pulling Rabbit and Ferrett away, discovered Blackie and Bear, still locked in combat. The Slytherin had age and weight on his side against the evacuee, but Blackie had been fighting for survival on the streets of the East End since he was seven, and was muscled from a year of hard work. While the muggle had a split lip and one eye was already starting to swell shut under a dark bruise the wizard had clearly taken a greater beating.

The Dicks stood in a defiant group as Headmaster Dippet ordered all Hogwarts students who had engaged in the fighting to return to the school. The Dicks grinned in triumph, until the ladies of the Women's Mission Society arrived to investigate the cause of the commotion. "How could you!" Alice Hart scolded Blackie – whose face identified him as the most likely suspect. She grabbed him by the ear, "Come with me." She caught Eleanor's attention, "Ellie, can I take him to the Hog's Head for poultice?"

Eleanor nodded.

Bones chuckled at Blackie's discomfort, and came under Alice's withering stare. "The five of you will go to the church now and ask God's forgiveness. How could you boys embarrass me like this?"

"But–"

"NOW!" she thundered, and pulling Blackie by the ear headed for the Hog's Head.

"We're not really going, are we?" Whitey whispered as Alice Hart disappeared into the crowd.

"Better," Squints voted. "She hears we didn't and we're in trouble. If'n church is the only punishment I got no problem."

"Like that means anything," Bones scoffed.

"Don't suppose any of you listened to the sermon last Sunday," Rabbit asked the others.

"Nope." "No." "You're kidding." "You ain't gettin' religion, are you?"

"The Reverend said God always forgives those that ask with a pure heart… I figure none of us will be forgiven, but Squints is right. We ought to go over and hope that's the end of it. She looked really angry."

Blackie had been patched up by the time they returned to the dragon roast, although he still had cobweb poultice on his bruised eye.

Pericles Hart filled a jug with ale from Aberforth's barrel, which helped win the bet for the Hog's Head brew. He had hoped to store it on the wagon without his wife seeing him, but Alice had been looking for him. She glanced at the jug, then looked at him reproachfully. "We need to punish the Dicks."

"And by 'we' you mean 'me'."

"Of course."

"Seems to me you've already embarrassed them enough for that to be their punishment."

"Punishment? That was nothing. They made me a laughing-stock in front of the Mission Society."

"You're the one what's always givin' 'em rewards."

"Training up the twig. They must learn there are consequences for their actions. Rewards when they're good and punishments when they do evil."

"I don't know that a little fight is–"

"Training the twig, Pericles, training the twig."

"Yes, Dear," he sighed.

Later in the afternoon, with all the ale sold, the women's salad, potatoes and tea gone, and everyone gorged on meat the remaining meat and the dragon bones were auctioned off for the charity and the library.

The Dicks, who had more spending money than most of the evacuees and few places to spend it, bought three of the huge dragonwurst sausages for themselves.

The bones had been carefully weighed into four piles. Julian Pilliwickle found plenty of bidders wanting one of the four lots.

"Why does anyone want bones," Vera whispered to Alice Oliphant at the edge of the crowd.

"Dragon bones," Alice told her. "Grind them up and put it on your garden. You'll get tomatoes bigger than your head, carrots six feet long, pumpkins you could hollow out and sleep inside. I hope we get a lot."

The Oliphants did not go bid high enough. One lot did go to the Planks while the Harts purchased one of the remaining three.

The day had been long, and the wagon ride out to the Hart farm was unusually quiet. The wagon was left in its shed and Pericles and Squints helped carry serving dishes into the house, then the boy went back to his friends.

"You need to go out and teach them a lesson now," Alice told her husband.

"I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that."

"It is our Christian duty, while they are here, to teach them right from wrong. I've come to love all the boys, and that's why they need to be punished."

He sighed, "I hope that makes sense to you, because it doesn't to me. I seem to remember something about forgiving those who sin against you."

"Don't you dare quote the good book to me, Pericles Hart, it also says 'He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.' We are commanded to 'train up a child in the way he should go'."

"And the job falls on me."

"Yes, the job falls on you."

Pericles headed out to the Dicks' room out off the barn. He knocked and went in, a frown on his face. "Boys, the Missus demands I teach you a lesson." He took off his heavy leather belt, doubled it over and snapped it loudly.

The Dicks looked at him. They didn't want a fight. He'd whipped three of them the first week they arrived. They were bigger now, stronger too, but they had gained some respect for the fat man and his strength. None of them spoke; they just stared at him, wondering what he was going to do.

"There's a hard way to learn a lesson, and an easy way. Today's lesson is; if you want to keep a secret – you keep your damn mouth shut." He slipped his belt back through the loops.

"That was the lesson?" Rabbit asked in wonder.

"Why'ja take the belt off?" Bones wanted to know.

"Took the belt off to get your attention," the farmer told them. "And what I told you is an important lesson. The Missus thinks I'm out here giving you all a whipping. If she hears otherwise we're all in for a hell of a lot of trouble – me and the lot of you. You understand that?"

The boys nodded.

"Keeping a secret isn't easy. You'll want bad to share it with someone else. The easy way to learn the lesson is believe me now when I tell you that. The hard way is to open your damn mouths and tell someone else. They shares it with someone else. And they shares it. You don't know where the tale will go - but you can be damn sure it will end up in ears you don't want to hear it. We all keep our mouths shut, and it doesn't go out of this room."

"That was the lesson?" Blackie asked.

"Aye."

"Good lesson," Whitey murmured.

"And now, boys, I'm afraid I'm going to set a bad example for you. Squints, go out to the wagon and fetch the jug that's under the tarp with the bones."

Not sure what was going on Squints left.

"Porky," the farmer ordered, "get out your tin cups… Got a spare for me?"

Squints returned with the jug. "This is another secret, boys. We'll all catch hell if the Missus hears about this." He uncorked the jug and filled the cups. "From the Hog's Head," he told them.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean about setting a bad example," Rabbit complained as the boys took cups of ale. "Drinking?"

"After telling you boys never share a secret, I'm going to tell you one of mine," Pericles told them. "It goes with the whipping you didn't get and the ale in your cup as something that'll get you in trouble if you tell a living soul. Damn proud of you lot for this afternoon."

"Proud?" Bones echoed in disbelief.

"Damn proud," he declared emphatically, then drained his cup and refilled it. "This village revolves 'round that school. No one'll dare say a word against it. There're some good folk out there – teachers and students. But there're a lot of toity folk out there, just too good to associate with the likes of us. I–"

"Did you go to the school?"

"I weren't good enough for them."

"But you're a wizard."

"I was born a wizard, they don't make you one and they can't take that from you. They takes them with money or thems they like. I didn't have money and they didn't like me. Maybe I'd feel different if'n they had. I picked up what I know where I could, and I've spent a life wishing I could rub a snotty nose in the dirt…" He looked at Blackie, "Damn proud of you boys."

The Dicks weren't sure how to respond.

The farmer drained the cup and set it down. "Last lesson for the night. There are good people out at the school, and this village needs it. You don't say a word against it to anyone – you don't need the trouble and I sure as hell don't need the trouble, understood?" The Dicks nodded. "And after the whipping I just gave you, you know not to start any fights, correct?" He gave them a wink. The Dicks smiled and nodded. "Someone else starts the fight, stand your ground. Back down and they'll be bullies like that Hitler." The farmer returned to his house, leaving the jug with the boys.

Blackie wouldn't sit down at the table for breakfast the next morning, "Had to sleep on my stomach last night," he apologized. "Kind of sore."

Alice glared at her husband. He was not happy, the boy was laying it on too thick and he felt his wife would see through the charade.

Porky rubbed his rear end gently, as if it were in pain. "Don't know why we all needed a lesson, it was Blackie started the fight."

"I didn't start no fight – it was that big guy from the–"

"Not the Hagrid boy," Alice said with alarm. "Mrs. Plank said he was always–"

"Not the Hagrid boy," Pericles interrupted, "he stood to one side. Didn't get in the fight at all."

"Whoever he was," Blackie continued. "He started it. He was making fun of the overalls you made us. And he said bad things. I said you were a good Christian woman and–"

Alice was angry now, "Pericles, how could you whip these boys?"

"But Dear, you told–"

"And when I don't know all the facts you should help me. I don't think the boys should have to work today. You'll stay home and do the chores alone while I take them to church."

Four of the Dicks would have preferred any chore other than mucking out the manure to sitting in the church pew. The final two would have preferred even mucking out the stalls to listening to the sermon. Being condemned to stay home and do chores sounded more like a reward to them.

Porky and Whitey changed clothes and helped with chores in the afternoon. After helping bring in the cattle they stood with the farmer, leaning against the wooden fence and staring at the animals. "Rabbit write your little play this morning?" Pericles asked.

Porky nodded.

"Called him Rabbit for his teeth," the farmer commented. "But he's quick. Figured it was him."

"It was very funny," Whitey chuckled.

"No t'weren't…" Pericles paused. "Well, maybe next week I'll think it was funny."

Two days later Tom Riddle began work on his contract to write a potions paper for the sixth year Ravenclaw who had sold him a share of dragon heart. The prospect of a fourth year writing a paper for a sixth year class didn't bother him, he was more concerned that he not write so well that professor Slughorn would immediately recognize him as the author of the paper. He needed a topic, and the obvious choice was Slytherin's resident expert in potions. "Eileen, I have a potions question."

The girl's eyes brightened, "Yes?"

"Lost potions."

"Lost potions?"

"Well, maybe not lost so much as no longer used. You know, why are they no longer used. Something that might make a good paper."

"I don't remember an assignment like that last year."

"Just an idea I had, I got curious, and figured you were the best person at the school to ask."

Proud to feel consulted Eileen needed no time to think, "The dead book room."

"Dead book room?"

"You know the forbidden book room?"

"Only sixth and seventh years can go in there."

"The dead book room is different, anyone can go in, but you have to have the librarian unlock it for you. Out-of-date books. Damaged books. There's lots of rubbish in there, but if you're curious about old potions you should give it a look."

Tom found sufficient information to construct the required potions paper easily. Before leaving the storage room however he explored it.

The thing of greatest interest was an ancient tome that probably belonged in the forbidden book room rather than storage for damaged books. There were curses and spells he had heard of, and some with which he was unfamiliar. Some of the spells required human blood or organs. The table of contents mentioned a horcrux spell, for the splitting of one's self. _ "Two of me,"_ Tom thought. _"I can get things done in half the time."_ When he turned back in the volume however, he found a number of pages had been cut out - including the ones he wanted to see. There were still spells of interest and he put the book with his papers.

He also discovered two more locked doors before exiting the room. "Can books be checked out from damaged storage," he asked casually. "And there were two more locked rooms back there, what were they?"

"Headmaster archives and founders' archives," Miss Dugan, the librarian, explained. "Yes, you can check books out - but you'll need to be careful with them."

He handed over the book. "Founders' archives? Would there even be things from Salazar Slytherin?"

"Oh yes, letters and manuscripts from all the founders are in there." She automatically began to fill out a circulation card without looking carefully at the book.

"Can I see them?"

"Sorry, but students are only able to see them with the permission of a faculty member. That's just Founder's archives. No students are ever allowed to see the Headmaster archives." She gave the boy a wink, "Too much chance students would try and see how their moms and dads misbehaved when they were in school."

"It's the Founder's archives I want to see. If I have the permission of a faculty member, I can see them?"

"Well, yes. There are some other restrictions about access, but first you would need a letter from a faculty member granting permission." She started to hand over the book, then pulled it back. "Oh. Sorry. This shouldn't have been in there. I'm sure you wouldn't have misused this, but it's dark arts and should've been in the other room. Not all students are as mature as you."

On another day he might have begged for an exception and tried to check out the book. But the news of the founders' archives was more important. He smiled and left the library. She sighed and returned to her inventory task. She wished all the students were as conscientious in their studies as the Riddle boy.

Tom smiled all the way to Slytherin, Professor Binns was the obvious choice. The potions paper momentarily forgotten, Tom had his story in mind by the time he reached his room, "In Slytherin we have stories about the quarrel between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. I'm certain the Gryffindors have their version of the story as well. If you'll give me permission to use the archives I'd like to research the topic and see if I can discover what really happened." The clues for the location of the Chamber of Secrets had to be among the archived papers. He would find the Chamber, it was his destiny and nothing could stop him. _"The legend is true. Eating dragon heart is good luck."_

Materials to renovate the Flamels' damaged home were in short supply because of wartime restrictions, but it had been patched as best they could and they moved out of the Hog's Head. A long tunnel connected the building with the school, a relic from an earlier decade when Nicolas taught at Hogwarts. It would also make the trip easier during inclement weather when he worked with Albus Dumbledore on dragon's blood.

"I fear we've outlived another home," Perenelle told her husband as she arranged the kitchen.

He came into the kitchen to watch her work, "We could get it fixed up properly once the war is over."

"Or we could give it to the school when we leave and build a new one when we return. That way we needn't worry about poor caretakers."

"I suppose," he sighed. "I do so hate digging tunnels."

"But you do it so well," his wife reminded him, and kissed him on the cheek. "And if you hate digging tunnels so much you could always fly your broom in the snow and rain – or say 'no' the next time they ask you to teach."

Professor Binns had been delighted to write a note for Tom Riddle giving him permission to look at the founder's archives. "Not enough students take an interest in history," the old professor sighed as he handed over the parchment. "They don't seem to recognize that where we come from is part of who we are."

"A mistake I'll never make, Sir," Tom told him quite seriously. "I think we should take pride in our past."

"Good lad, let me know if you find anything interesting."

_ "You can be certain I won't tell you. But if I find the Chamber everyone will know."_

Miss Dugan explained the archive rules to Tom. He could not take a wand or ink into the room, they must be left at the desk. He could bring materials out to the damaged book room to look at them in better light than a candle afforded in the archives. Tom agreed. He would have agreed to anything to obtain access to the room.

The librarian went in with him on his initial visit to explain the contents of the room. She also removed seals, charms, and spells protecting the door as he listened carefully in case he desired to sneak in some time by himself.

"Most of the spells are to keep out vermin," she explained as she pulled the door open. "Can't have mice or insects chewing things up." She held her wand up, _"Lumos,"_ and led him in.

The room was small and windowless. Shelves stacked with books and boxes took up almost every inch of the walls. A table with two rickety chairs took up much of the floor space. The shelves on the wall with the door mostly contained boxes. "Rowena Ravenclaw's papers remain loose, and are very poorly catalogued," Miss Dugan apologized.

"Catalogued?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it has never been done well. Here on the table." She pointed to several stacks of papers. "The governors should let us hire an archivist to put things in proper order. Librarians at different times have done work with different systems and different levels of completeness. Godric Gryffindor didn't leave many papers, but his have all be catalogued - here," she said touching a folder stuffed with paper on the desk. "Salazar Slytherin left more papers, this pile tries to list everything – you might begin there, but I must warn you some of the records are poorly made –"

"Where are his papers?"

The librarian indicated the bound volumes on the wall opposite the door. "The indices tell you what volume and which page will contain a letter. They are supposed to tell you the date of the letter, the recipient and sender, and a brief note as to the content." She pointed to the wall with the largest number of bound volumes, "And these are the writings of Helga Hufflepuff. I think she corresponded with every witch or wizard in Europe. They've not all been catalogued and Lord knows what we might find among her papers."

"These boxes, are they just papers or are there relics of the founders?"

"No relics, I'm afraid, besides the parchments. The sword of Gryffindor, the staff of Slytherin… There are any number of things that probably disappeared before we put things under lock and key. That's why no wands are allowed in here, transfigure something into a different form and walk off with it."

"That's worse than stealing gold!"

The librarian smiled, "Far worse. Do you have any questions?"

"Charts or drawings of the school as it was in the founders' time?"

"I thought you were interested in the quarrel between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin?"

"I feel like Aladdin in the cave of treasure. Now that I'm here I have so many other questions going through my head."

"I know the feeling. It is almost like the founders are here with us in the room, ready to answer questions. It is hard to know where to start, isn't it?"

"Yes. And I've wondered what the school looked like in the early days."

"Then you are at the best place for answers. One of the Ravenclaw boxes is filled with sketches she made around the village when the school was going up. Helga Hufflepuff's sketches were bound with the letters so they're still only partially indexed…" She glanced over and took down a book that had a piece of parchment sticking out as a bookmark. "I love this drawing of the chapel after it was built," she told him and showed him the sketch. "The librarian before me bookmarked the page."

"That was what it used to look like?"

"Yes…" The librarian sighed. "We Hufflepuffs consider it a crime that it was allowed to fall into ruin."

"Besides the sketches are there floor plans of any kind?"

"Oh yes, come around to the other side of the table," Out of sight because of the table were some low, wide shelves with map cases stacked on them. "If you are interested in the history of the buildings I can let you see the plans for some of the later additions and changes from the headmasters' archives. But the development of the original plan is here. When the founders decided to establish the school they each drew up their own designs to share their visions with one another. You can see the evolution from four very different ideas into the original foundation. The original building was much smaller, you know. It is surprising how much of Hogwarts dates from later times."

A loud call from the direction of the front desk distracted Miss Dugan, "Oh dear, I'd better see what he wants. Will you be fine here?"

"Perfectly he assured her," as she left.

She left a candle and he stood in the middle of the room, inhaling the history and mystery of the school. The location of the Chamber of Secrets was here, he knew it as certainly as he knew he would find it. This room itself was a chamber of secrets, he had breached this chamber, and he would breach the next. He held the candle up. He didn't even know where to start looking – the indices to the writings? The papers of Slytherin himself? The floor plans? With no clear sense of where to begin he pulled a random volume down from the bound works of Slytherin and took it out to the damaged book room. From one of the pages in this or another volume his ancestor would speak to him, sharing the secrets of the hidden chamber. Reverentially Riddle set the book down on a reading table and carefully opened the cover.

Tom closed his eyes, momentarily disgusted with himself for lack of attention to detail. His ancestor might indeed speak to him from one of the volumes, but he would be speaking in Latin.

* * *

Women were subject to the draft until 1947. Women drafted into the military did not serve in combat units, although some died in the service. Women served in clerical positions traditionally held by men, drove lorries/trucks, and flew planes to deliver them or cargo.

Tref = not kosher.

Wellies… Wellington boots were named for the Duke, who popularized them. A version of the popular boot was first made of rubber in the 1850s, and popularity of the boots had only grown among those who worked in wet, muddy (or otherwise foul) conditions and wanted to keep their feet dry.


	10. Musical Interlude

Unlike my Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack canon checked the next chapters. Where I deviate from canon it is by choice – because I think canon has problems. She tried to keep me in canon.

Last chapter was revised after posting to reflect a reminder from Imablack – something I knew but had forgotten to include (if you read early you might look back).

**Musical Interlude **

The final quidditch match of the fall term saw Gryffindor playing Ravenclaw. After their humiliation at the hands of Ravenclaw the previous year the Gryffindor team was champing at the bit to avenge the loss. Ravenclaw, smarting from their loss in the first game to Slytherin, was desperate to retain the quidditch cup. Both sides played hard, neither was able to dominate in scoring goals. The Gryffindor seeker captured the snitch in the early afternoon, giving the house its second win.

Miss Dugan had suggested that Professor Binns would probably be the best qualified person at Hogwarts to produce a translation charm. Armed with his new tool Tom Riddle returned to the founders' archive and discovered the Latin text remained almost as undecipherable, except for a word here or there.

"Perhaps he cast the charm poorly," the librarian suggested. "I could make one for you, but I don't believe my Latin is very good."

"If you would please," Tom requested.

_"Hers is much better than old Binns',"_ Tom thought. Miss Dugan's charm didn't provide fluency, but it allowed him to catch the general sense of a letter with ease and, with the help of a lexicon, puzzle his way to the approximate sense of more difficult passages.

With a decent translation charm the next issue became the sheer number of pages Tom wanted to examine. He thought again to the reference for a spell which would divide him in two. Two of him could search the material must faster than one. He would ask some professors about the horcrux spell.

In Hogsmeade Elijah went through a growth spurt in the late autumn which left him nearly as tall as his older brother. Eleanor used an _engorgio_ spell on his clothes, but the style – intended for a shorter child – seemed wrong on his taller frame. A room in the basement of the church held clothing that evacuees and local children had outgrown, but nothing for boys of Elijah's new size.

"I wish there was a used clothing shop here," Elijah complained during dinner.

"Probably one in Easley. Imagine it's been pretty well picked over," Aberforth commented between bites. "May need to use your ration points for new."

"When can we go over?" Elijah asked, "I'll write for money."

"Probably not for a week or two," Aberforth told him.

"That long?"

Eleanor made a suggestion, "Do you think there might be anything that would fit him, or that I could take in for him, up in one of the storerooms?"

"That's all old wizard stuff," her husband reminded her. "Not sure what the lad would think about dressing wizard."

"It would be better than this," Elijah said, looking down at the clothes he wore. "Please, can I look?"

"I'd better look with you," Eleanor told the boy. "I imagine some of those things have been there since my grandfather, perhaps even before. We can look after school tomorrow."

Elijah wouldn't have minded going up to look after supper, but he knew the Hog's Head would be busy in the evening and decided to endure another day.

Aberforth chuckled when the boy came down for the evening meal the next day, "You look a proper young wizard."

Resplendent in bright colors Elijah just grinned at him. "I feel like a pirate or something."

"You really like the outfits?" Elanor asked, thinking the boy might just be wearing the clothing with her alterations to be polite.

"I really like them," he assured her. "Everything is a lot of fun."

Aberforth and Eleanor were in the kitchen on Monday, December 8, but the three evacuees had not come down for breakfast.

"Perhaps they overslept, or forgot they have school today," Ellie suggested optimistically. On some days Albert was slow in coming downstairs as he listened to bad news on the BBC.

"One can hope," Aberforth grunted. They both feared that the reason for the boys remaining upstairs was not the failure of an alarm clock. After a few more nervous minutes Aberforth announced, "I'd best go see if they're awake."

"I'll go with you."

"They might not be dressed."

"I'll stay in the hall until you find out what happened."

"You could wait down here."

"I want to know."

The three boys were around the small table by the window. Albert repeated the news to the Flints as he heard it through his headphones. When Aberforth entered the younger brother, Elijah ran over and threw his arms around the man for comfort. "Japan declared war on us!"

"Eh?"

Daniel tried to explain, "Last night the Japanese bombed some US base in the Pacific–"

"Pearl Harbor," Albert explained. "There was a lot of damage."

"And they declared war on the United States and on us," Daniel finished.

Aberforth called through the open door, "Did you hear that Ellie?"

"I… I'm going to go write a letter to Mary."

"What does it mean, Mr. Dumbledore," Daniel asked. "Will America really be in the war now?"

Aberforth thought for a minute. "I'm not certain. They say they've not been in the war, but that's legal fiction… Might call it illegal fiction. The Lend-Lease has kept us afloat, Soviets too. They've been hoping we could whip Hitler by ourselves with their equipment, but it can't be done. Our daughter Mary says there're a lot of anti-war folk over there. This will open their eyes and make them see they need to play a larger role. Japan declared war on us too? I don't like the sound of that. We can't add another fight to the one we're in here. And if the Americans stop helping us to fight them there may be less aid and Hitler could win before they remember Europe."

"What should we do?" Elijah asked.

"Well, right now you should come downstairs, eat breakfast, and go to school."

"But–"

"You can't change what has happened. Feels like the world is going to hell all around us, but we can't change that. We have to keep living as best we can under whatever circumstances. And right now the best we can is for the three of you to eat breakfast and go to school. Don't know how much work you'll get done once you tell your news, you'll have everyone guessing about the future."

Tom Riddle had asked two professors about a spell to divide oneself into two, but neither had heard of such a spell. The description had been in a book of dark magic. Perhaps casting the spell would required forbidden rituals. He stayed after class in Defense against the Dark Arts. "Professor Merrythought?"

"Yes, Tom?"

"I was reading a book and it mentioned some sort of spell where a person can divide himself in two. I thought I could study more if there were two of me."

"Spell for copying yourself? I don't think I… Could it have been a time turner? Have to be very careful with those. And a future self studying for you won't do you any good."

"I think it was called the Horcrux Spell–"

"What?" she snapped, "what book did you see that in?"

"I don't recall. I was browsing through books in the library and ran across it. There was no explanation. It just claimed the Horcrux could split you in two and I wanted to know if I could do it."

"No, you can't. That is advanced magic, and exceedingly dark. You thought it would make a duplicate of yourself?"

"Yes… That isn't what it does?"

"Indeed no."

"Then what does it do."

"I won't tell you. That is strictly a spell for dark wizards – the darkest of the dark. We don't even talk about it in the sixth or seventh year forms."

"But–"

"Sorry, Tom, but those are the rules. I'm surprised a publisher let any reference to it slip into another book. If you find that book again in the library please let me know."

"If it is as bad as you say I certainly will." _ "I have to know what that spell does."_

Near Christmas a large parcel arrived at the Hogsmeade station for the Oliphants, Victoria Leffington's host family. As the weather turned cooler she had been sent a jacket sewn from ticking. She had informed her parents they were not, under any circumstances, allowed to have any clothing made for her from the material – but had reported that Alice Oliphant loved the jacket when Victoria had passed it to her. The heavy cotton fabric had been used to cover the pads for prams and the Leffingtons had a great deal of the material, so they had sent two large bolts of the cloth to the Oliphants and by the end of January many of the girls in the village, both evacuee and local, would sport jackets of the striped material.

The Christmas Eve service was again spectacular; Portia Higgs had more time to organize in the second Christmas with evacuees. After the service Alistair Savage, fourth-year Ravenclaw, who had played trumpet for Mrs. Higgs' choir orchestra, put a hand on Adrianna Prince's arm, "Come with me." Not sure what he was doing Adrianna followed him across the sanctuary to where Albert was talking with some of the evacuees as he put away his instrument. "We need to get together for a jam session out at Hogwarts."

"He's a muggle," Adrianna protested.

"Not interested," Albert responded.

"It'll be fun. You two are almost as good as me."

Adrianna and Albert looked at each other and rolled their eyes. The wizard played a decent trumpet – but the two of them recognized he was nowhere near their level of skill.

"Look," Albert began, then hesitated, realizing he didn't even know the wizard's name.

The trumpet player picked up the reason for the hesitation. "Alistair Savage," he said, sticking out his right hand, "you can call me Brass."

"You won't call him Brass," Adrianna told Albert firmly.

"Call me Brass," the wizard repeated.

"A nickname doesn't count if you pick it out for yourself," she shot back.

Albert had meanwhile decided that maybe having a couple other people to talk with about his love of music might be fun – even if one of them was Adrianna Prince. "I don't know if I'm allowed in your school. How about we meet at the Hog's Head?"

"At the school," Alistair insisted, "there's a piano in the Hufflepuff common room. We can get Bertie to play. C'mon, let's go talk with him."

Bertie played so well that Mrs. Higgs had drafted him as pianist for the service, but he played Classical rather than hot piano. His initial response was as tepid as Alistair had received from both Adrianna and Albert. But Alistair possessed an ability to flatter, cajole, and persuade which had nothing to do with his performance in charms and soon had the Hufflepuff pianist agreeing to try. While uncertain if he could improvise anything new himself he thought he'd be able to adapt to whatever the others did. "One condition, you have to ask Bunny to play with us."

"Not Bunny," Alistair groaned.

"Please tell me you're not serious," Adrianna complained.

"Who's Bunny?" Albert wanted to know.

"Michael Bundy is…" the trumpet player began. "I… I don't like to talk about him."

"Bunny is a very fine musician," Bertie told Albert. "Or at least he would be if he took it more seriously and didn't listen to so much of that swing music you waste your time on."

"What does he play?" the witch asked.

"Mostly drums, and banjo."

The trumpet player looked skeptical, "How do you know he's a good musician? Are you and him…"

"No!" Bertie blushed. "We're both in Hufflepuff. He wants to play with me… He wants to play drums while I'm practicing piano, but there's nothing for piano and drums. And he likes different music from what I play."

"If he's so good, why wasn't he playing for the service tonight?" Albert wanted to know.

"I doubt anyone outside Hufflepuff knows how good he is."

"I doubt if Mrs. Higgs would have let him in the church even if she knew," Alistair retorted.

"A drummer might be nice," Albert whispered to the witch.

"Bunny is annoying," she whispered back. "And he prefers wizards to witches." She gave him a knowing wink.

"You mean…"

"Yes, I do. So if we do this and he asks you back to his room – don't go."

"Count on it," Albert muttered.

Had the service been held on Christmas day the celebration would have been muted. The BBC carried the news that Hong Kong had surrendered to the Japanese. "I doubt if they've even heard the news out at the school," Eleanor said on the morning of Thursday, December 26th, "you'll tell them when you go out."

"If I go out," Albert said glumly. "Don't know that I feel like playing… Don't know if anyone will feel like making music."

"And I told you," Aberforth reminded him, "you can't let the news rule your life or you'll just still there all day with the headphones on. You love your music. You have to go out there and do your best to enjoy yourself. Lord knows we don't have much to be happy about these days, so you'd better hold on tight to what you have."

"I'm not a bad person if I play music, even if the country is in trouble?"

Eleanor kissed the top of the boy's head, "Abe is right. When the country is in trouble we need those who can play music more than ever."

Albert felt a combination of emotions as he walked the path to Hogwarts. An actual jam session would be fun, and he wanted to play the music he loved with others. He felt slightly guilty that he could feel happy under the circumstances. And he was nervous because he couldn't rule out that the invitation was some sort of a cruel trick being played on him.

Beelzebub saw or smelled him, and the barking brought out Ogg. Before the huge man could call out a warning Albert lifted his clarinet case and shouted, "I'm supposed to play."

Ogg shrugged and returned to his cottage.

The muggle followed directions to a side door, which was opened on the first knock by Alistair. Adrianna sat with her saxophone on a bench in the entryway. "Hang your coat," the trumpeter suggested, pointing to pegs over the bench.

"Think I'll keep it with me," Albert told him. If this was a trick and he needed to make a run for it he didn't want to leave his coat behind. "The Japanese took Hong Kong," or if the news meant there would be no jam session he might need to leave early.

"Hong Kong… That's by China somewhere, isn't it?"

"Yes it is," Adrianna told him, "and it's an important colony."

"Well, we can't change that," the Ravenclaw told them. "I say we play music." He looked at the witch, "Lead the way." As she took the two through a winding maze of corridors leading into the earth. "Don't know how you Slytherins and Hufflepuffs do it, living underground like this," he shivered. "It's all claustrophobic down here."

"I've always wondered how you and Gryffindors can stand your towers. They've got to be drafty in the winter."

Albert felt a thrill of terror as they came upon an insubstantial something in the shape of a man in the corridor.

"Could you tell Bertie we're here?" Adrianna asked.

The fat friar smiled, "Certainly," and disappeared through a wall.

"What was that," Albert whispered.

"The Hufflepuff ghost… Haven't you seen a ghost before?"

"Not a real… He was real, right?"

"Is there such a thing as a fake ghost?" Alistair asked Adrianna.

"Not that I know of."

A section of wall slid back and Bertie beckoned them in. Albert had pictured a smaller room than the Hufflepuff common room proved to be. There were also more young wizards and witches there than he expected.

"Can we dance?" a witch asked eagerly.

"I… uh… don't know," Adrianna began, "we were just going to–"

"Sure you can," Alistair boomed. "Have fun."

A blond youth who obviously spent any spare money on sweets was sitting up a more complete drum kit by the piano than the new arrivals had expected to see."

Bertie made the introductions, "Bunny, this is Albert. Albert, Bunny."

The overweight wizard made a high-pitched giggle and offered the Jewish boy a warm moist hand to shake. He held Albert's hand longer than necessary and emitted another giggle.

"What should we do?" Adrianna asked as Albert snatched his hand back and hurriedly began to put his clarinet together as Alistair checked his instrument over.

"I heard something new on the wireless last week, String of Pearls," the Jewish boy told her.

It did not surprise Albert that the witch picked up the melody quickly and joined in. Nor did it surprise either of them that Alistair had difficulty. Bertie had a little trouble catching on to a syncopated rhythm but managed to work his way in eventually. He enjoyed the way everyone in the common room was paying attention to the musicians. Bertie was the only one not surprised by the ease and speed in which Bunny added percussion to the mix.

"Moonlight Serenade," Adrianna called. Alistair and Bertie did better with the more familiar piece. The Ravenclaw wizard did better with a couple Cab Calloway tunes he suggested.

"Do any of you know any Grieg?" Bertie asked.

"Grieg?"

"Edvard Grieg, the Norwegian."

"What band does he play with?" Alistair asked.

Bunny giggled and hit what Albert had called a rim-shot on a drum. "Makin' Whoopee," the pudgy drummer called. Bunny also provided vocals for the tune, and while he was no Eddie Cantor he had half the people in the common room rolling with laughter by the time they were finished.

They discovered Bertie knew some Gershwin during almost two hours of playing around. The wizards and witches of Hufflepuff begged them to come back again. The musicians talked for a little while before the three outsiders returned to their houses and Hogsmeade.

Bunny invited Albert back to his room to see his record collection, but the muggle turned him down.

"What do you have?" Adrianna asked.

"I think I have everything Eddie Cantor every recorded. Hoosier Hot Shots, Schnickelfritz Band… I have a cousin in America who says a band called the Feather Merchants has just changed its name to Spike Jones and the City Slickers and he predicts I'm going to love them. I–"

"Everything is novelty songs?" Alistair complained.

"Novelty songs can still be good music," Albert pointed out.

"Thank you," Bunny said, and bestowed a beatific smile on the muggle that made Albert even more nervous.

"Do any of you listen to Charlie and his Orchestra?" the Jewish boy asked.

"Who are they?"

"It's Nazi propaganda," Albert admitted, "but they play a lot of good jazz and swing."

"Nazi propaganda?" Adrianna asked in disbelief.

"Well, not the whole thing. They tell some lies then they play music. They change some words in the last verses, but it's still good music."

"Change words?" Bunny asked.

"Novelty stuff. Something will start as a love song then the last verse will be how England's losing the war. I don't listen for the words."

Bunny giggled, "When is it on? Maybe you'll ask me up to your room."

"Saturday and Wednesday night, around nine. Too late for company. Elijah needs to be in bed."

"I'll be quiet," Bunny promised.

Albert was sweating, "No. Really can't… Maybe you can bring out your Gramophone out and we can listen next time we jam."

"So we'll try this again," Alistair asked, clearly excited by the prospect.

"I guess… Sure, if everyone else wants to," Albert offered.

"I'm in," Adrianna told them.

Bertie hesitated, "It wasn't as dreadful as I thought it would be, I–"

"You were good," the witch assured him.

"What I was going to say was, I had fun. I'd like to try it again."

The Flint brothers had a thousand questions about the inside of the school, but Albert only had about a dozen answers.

Those in Slytherin knew only that Tom was spending a great deal of time in the library. While he felt in his heart he would find the secret he would not be made a fool of by public failure if he failed to discover the chamber.

"Come on, Tom," Bear complained. "You're the best fourth in the school. What do you need to study so much for?"

"Because I don't want to be just the best fourth or fifth year student at Hogwarts, I want to be the greatest wizard since Slytherin."

"You're neglecting your friends," Ferret pointed out. "You missed Dueling Club last week. Just isn't the same without you."

Tom slapped his forehead in self-disgust, "Damn! How could I forget that. Sorry, I shouldn't forget my friends… How about we sneak into the kitchen for a little snack?"

Tom smiled to himself as his two closest lieutenants and a couple other followers slipped through the darkened hallways toward the kitchen. He felt certain he had discovered reference to the Chamber. What he had seen in the letters didn't say Chamber, nor did it give a hint as to the location – or even if the object mentioned in passing truly existed. Slytherin proposed providing the school with a weapon or defense or protection of some sort, the letter did not provide details. Another letter had used the same word in regard to Slytherin's desires, and a third mentioned a disagreement with Gryffindor who did not regard it as necessary. _"The fool,"_ Riddle thought to himself. In a later letter to his wife, Tom's distant several-times-great grandmother, was a reference to the construction work proceeding as Salazar desired. Tom had leapt to a series of assumptions. Salazar Slytherin had proposed some sort of protection for Hogwarts, and Godric Gryffindor had foolishly blocked the plan. Slytherin had secretly constructed the Chamber to hide the weapon, or whatever the protection was until such time as the school needed it. Of course, that was many years ago. Whatever Slytherin had left in the chamber might have lost its power centuries ago, but he was the greatest wizard the world had seen until that point so it might still be there – waiting and powerful.

If Gryffindor had not been such a fool perhaps the school could have used the tool in the Goblin siege of Hogwarts or one of the other crises the school and village had faced over the centuries. Or perhaps the weapon could only be wielded by the true heir of Slytherin and it was his fate to open it. Hogsmeade and the school faced a graver crisis than any of the attacks from outsiders in the past. The village was now filled with muggle children who had been invited to the village, and were treated as if they deserved to be there. A muggle had been invited to perform music at Hogwarts itself. The wizarding world would not fall to external threats but had been betrayed from within. Tom would find the Chamber and use it to purify Hogsmeade from the presence of the muggles who walked its streets.

He wished there were two of him to make the reading go faster. He wondered if Professor Merrythought had lied about what the spell accomplished. Perhaps it did allow a person to split in two, but the method required dark arts and was therefore forbidden. He needed to start flattering old Slughorn. The better off students often presented gifts to stay on Professor's Slughorn good side. But the head of Slytherin accepted a variety of gifts – even the flattery which was all Tom could afford.

On Saturday night Albert was sitting by the window with his headphones on in the boys' bedroom when there was a loud knock on the window, inches from his ear. He jumped and screamed in terror. Elijah sat up in bed, wondering what had happened. Albert looked out the window, Adrianna was looking into the room, laughing hysterically. She gestured for him to open the window. Curious how she could be some thirty feet above the ground he opened the window, and saw she was sitting on a broom in mid-air.

"You scream like a muggle," she laughed as she crawled in the room.

"We are muggles," Elijah reminded her.

"That's Elijah," Albert mentioned to the witch, "and you aren't supposed to be here."

"That's okay, I wasn't supposed to leave the school either, so it cancels out. I can't believe how loud you screamed."

"You scared me!"

"It was really funny. Is that radio program on? Is that your crystal set?"

"Yes it is," Elijah told her from the bed.

"Thanks," she said and sat down at the small table. Before she put Albert's headphones on she turned to Elijah, "Your brother is the handsome one you were sitting by at the church service, right?"

"Daniel? Handsome?"

Adrianna ignored the question and put on Albert's headphones. "Does anyone believe this nonsense," she commented during the 'news' between songs.

"I doubt it," Albert answered. "They–" She held up a hand to quiet him, music had started. She passed the headphones to him after a couple verses so he could hear the song. He returned the favor part way through the next song.

She'd been there about half an hour when Daniel came into the room, pulling off his shirt to get ready for bed. His mouth fell open at the sight of the witch and he quickly backed out of the room.

"That was my brother," Elijah told Adrianna.

"Yeah, the handsome one."

Daniel came into the room, his shirt properly in place, a minute later.

"You shouldn't be here," he warned her.

"Why not?" she asked innocently.

"It's wrong."

"Why?"

"Because… Because, you're a girl. You shouldn't be in a boy's bedroom."

"Oh. Are you going to hit me?"

Daniel looked shocked. "NO!"

"Are you going to try and kiss me? I might let you."

"No!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Then you're no fun. And I'm perfectly safe, I–"

To Daniel's relief Albert handed the headphones to the witch, and she was humming along to the music being broadcast from a studio in Germany. The older Flint brother sat on his bunk until the program ended, wondering what he should do or say and unwilling to go to bed with Adrianna in the room.

"I better get to the school," she said and took off the headphones. "That was fun."

Albert's teeth chattered as he held the window open for her. "You're even more annoying as a friend than as an enemy," he told her.

"So we're friends now?"

"I… Uh… I guess so. I mean, we've played music and…"

"Great," she assured him. "You said it's on Wednesday too? I'll be back." She went out through the window onto her broom, looked in and blew Daniel a kiss, then laughed and flew off to Hogwarts.

Thursday, January first, Albert had another evening session in the Hufflepuff common room. The room was crowded with students from other houses as well. Classes did not resume until the following Monday and the atmosphere was festive.

"I have a playlist," Alistair whispered to Bertie and Bunny, and pulled the parchment out of his trumpet case.

"Playlist?" Bertie asked, "I thought we were just–"

"I'll introduce the numbers and–"

"Why are you acting like the leader?" Adrianna demanded.

"Well, somebody has to. And since I wrote up the playlist I just thought–"

Bunny giggled, "I suggest we talk after the session. I nominate anyone but Alistair."

"I'm just trying to–" Alistair sputtered.

"Why don't we just play now?" Albert suggested.

"Seconded," Bertie said emphatically and sat down on the piano bench."

The Ravenclaw wizard turned to the common room and raised his hands for silence, "Got some hot tunes for you tonight. If you don't know me I'm Brass Savage–"

CLANG! Bunny slammed two cymbals together and the echoes were near deafening in the confined space. "We all know who you are, Alistair," Bunny reminded the trumpeter.

"We're just playing around up here," Adrianna told the students. "We're hoping we're going to have some fun tonight, and hoping you will too." She looked over at Albert and suggested, "Tuxedo Junction?" ignoring the playlist.

The Jew nodded and put the clarinet to his lips.

Adrianna had picked well, with Alistair being able to join in quickly once he worked through his resentment over being upstaged. The others let him have a trumpet solo partway through, and if he wasn't brilliant at least he didn't embarrass himself.

They tried to stay with more familiar pieces to make it easier for the students to dance. At one point as the four musicians who knew swing better argued over what to play next Bertie began a Schubert waltz, and a number of couples began to dance to the slower tune. Adrianna quickly joined Bertie in the Schubert, with Albert following a few seconds later.

As the waltz came to an end students stopped dancing and applauded Bertie. But Albert didn't stop playing, he tried an improvisation on the Schubert piece. As he ended he nodded to Adrianna, who took up the challenge and tried to top him. As she finished Bunny called out to the students, "Who was better? The muggle or the witch?" There were students shouting for both, but Bunny declared, "And the muggle wins, take it again," and began to lay down a rhythm that worked well with Albert's variation.

The muggle felt terribly self-conscious and hoped Adrianna wasn't angry, but she joined with him, and Bertie came along quickly, adapting unusually well because of his familiarity with the original work.

They played more pieces, including a couple more waltzes from Bertie. The others joined the pianist and played them straight, although Adrianna and Albert had another dueling improvisation at the end of a Haydn waltz. The second time the drummer declared that the witch 'won'.

The five talked briefly at the end of the session, and agreed to play again in two weeks.

"We need a name," Alistair insisted.

Bertie looked puzzled, "Why?"

"So people will know who we are."

"People know who we are," Adrianna told him.

"Bands need a name."

"We're not a band. We're just jamming together."

"If we had a name we'd be a band."

"Can I suggest The Hogwarts Temperance and Tippling Society?" Bunny giggled.

"No!" Alistair told him firmly. "I, uh, have a few suggestions." His suggestions all tended to make it sound like he was in charge.

"I think it should be patriotic," Bertie declared.

"Got a specific name?" Bunny asked. The pianist shook his head no. "I'd suggest Bunny and the Hoppers, but I'm afraid someone would throw me out a window."

"We don't have windows down here," Bertie reminded him.

"So, how about Bunny and–"

"No!" the others said together.

The chubby drummer pouted. "Someday you'll regret that. But in the meanwhile, how about All the Prince's Men."

Alistair pointed out the obvious, "She's a girl, how can…"

"Named Adrianna Prince," Bertie finished. "I think the whole name idea is silly. But I can live with the Prince's Men."

"_All_ the Prince's…" Bunny started to correct him, then shrugged. "Either way is fine by me."

"But it sounds like she's the leader!" Alistair wailed.

Albert shrugged, "I can live with it." Adrianna Prince was the most dangerous girl he knew and he assigned staying on her good side as a high priority.

* * *

The attack on Pearl Harbor came on Sunday morning in Hawaii. Sunday morning in Hawaii, however, is Sunday evening in Britain. With the confusion of the attack causing delays it would have been Monday morning before most in the UK would have heard. Some suspect that the US knew of the Pearl Harbor attack in advance, just as Churchill knew of the Coventry raid before it happened. There is no proof this is true. The US did suspect an attack from a Japanese fleet they did not know the location for in those pre-satellite days. There were other targets, however, that appeared more likely than Pearl. The US lied to its citizens about the extent of the damage to the US military in the attack. Cynics suggest they did not want citizens to know how badly the US had been prepared at a time when wars raged around the world and Japanese aggression was expected somewhere. Others suggest the under-report the damage was to keep Japan from quickly learning how successful the raid had been.

The US agreed to put the war in Europe on a higher priority than the war in the Pacific to insure Hitler was eliminated first. The Allies wildly over-estimated the strength of Japan. They looked at the size of the territory controlled by Japan as evidence of its tremendous power. While Japan certainly was powerful the amount of territory it had conquered stretched the island nation's resources to the limit and made it difficult to provision all the units in the field of war.

Flatter, cajole, and persuade - a little theft from Gilbert & Sullivan's Yeomen of the Guard, which I'm certain you all noticed.

String of Pearls was recorded in November, 1941. Glen Miller had a hit with Moonlight Serenade in 1939. Spike Jones took over the Feather Merchants late in 1941, it would be 1942 before they began releasing records and even those records will require some explanation. The Nazis viewed jazz and swing as decadent, but were willing to use it to increase listeners, and Charlie and His Orchestra starred on one of the more popular propaganda shows. In the early war, while German was winning, songs would be played 'straight' for a couple verses, then parody verses mocking Jews, Churchill, FDR, the US or England would be added. When the war began to turn against Germany the writers converted all verses into statements about how the Allies were losing. Many of their songs are available on the internet - some can be found in YouTube.


	11. Tom Riddle & the Antechamber of Secrets

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack did canon checking on this chapter, deviations are my own. In addition she furnished her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the character's background as best I can.

**Tom Riddle and the Antechamber of Secrets**

Japanese took Manila on the second of January, it seemed clear the Americans would lose the Philippines entirely, but for the moment they held on in Bataan.

On Saturday, January 3, Bear and Ferret were in Hogsmeade. As they passed Holly on the street Ferret made a remark to his friend about muggles ruining the village. He deliberately said if loudly enough for Holly to hear.

"You take that back!" Holly shouted.

"Take what back?"

"What you said about muggles. I'm no muggle!"

"You're not? God knows what you are then," Ferret sneered. "And I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to my friend. He's a wizard. If you ever figure out what kind of creature you–"

While I was talking Holly quickly scooped up some snow from the ground, fashioned it into a ball and threw it. Marian Lestrange ducked, but the Bear didn't and it caught William Avery on the side of the head.

"Hell," the big Slytherin grunted and scooped up snow to return fire, as did his smaller friend.

Out-numbered two to one Holly was losing badly when the Flint brothers, who saw the snowball fight, came to his defense. Some other Hogwarts students then joined the Slytherins. But there were more evacuees and Hogsmeade children in the village that day than Hogwarts students, and after almost half an hour the Hogwarts students were driven out of town.

"We'll be back next Saturday," Basil Gray shouted from the rear of the retreating wizards. A snowball from Elijah Flint hit him in the arm, with Basil's return shot splattering against the boy's chest and some snow going down his neck. "Village Green is ours!"

"It's ours," Daniel Flint shouted. His snowball missed the Gryffindor student and hit a retreating Hufflepuff on the bum.

Flush with victory the evacuees and village children returned in triumph to Hogsmeade. Holly Evans was among those sent to bed without supper than evening for running customers away from the village shops.

On Saturday, January 10, a large number of Hogwarts students emerged from the school and formed a phalanx before heading to the Village Green. Many in the group didn't understand why some of the students surrounding Tom Riddle were with him at the front, but no one questioned his role as leader. Most of those surrounding him were members of the dueling club.

The skirmish line of villager children and evacuees opposing their entry to the green was thinner than expected, Holly Evans and Elijah Flint stood at the center. Each boy or girl in the village line stood beside a small mound of snow balls.

"Green is ours," Holly declared.

"They're scared of us," Ferret chuckled in response to the small number of defenders and launched a snow ball.

Riddle's eyes narrowed, "There should be more, where are they?"

While the wizards outnumbered the opposing evacuees and villagers they were not able to carry a huge number of snowballs with them. Riddle had some of the younger wizards and the witches in the middle of the group, frantically making snowballs and handing it to the bigger students. The piles of ammunition behind the defenders meant they were able to fire faster. Before the defenders' ammo reserves were exhausted Daniel Flint, leading another group from the village, appeared from behind some houses, flanking the Hogwarts students and catching them in a crossfire.

The numbers were more equal now, with the wizards at a strategic disadvantage. Riddle directed the right flank to turn its attention to the newcomers. Shirley was the first casualty of the battle, running back to Mrs. Higgs in tears after being hit in the face with a snowball.

The students still felt confident despite the crossfire, when the doors of Wells' stable slid open and Blackie led the rest of the Dicks and the third battalion into the fray. Some of the villagers stepped outside to watch the battle, which was fast turning into a rout. Surrounded by a larger force the wizards and witches could expect snowballs from any direction.

Riddle shouted directions at his troops, trying to rally them. The students formed a circle, facing outward to protect each others' backs, but they were fast running out of snow where they stood.

"Do you yield?" Holly called.

"Never!" Riddle answered.

Snowballs continued to fly, with fewer coming from the wizards, some of whom were reduced to trying to catch the snowballs thrown at them and throwing them back.

Suddenly blood splashed red on the snow, and Daniel Flint collapsed, his forehead gashed and blood covering his face. The snowballs stopped as Elijah screamed and rushed at the Hogwarts students, apparently headed for Bear. No evacuees had any idea who had thrown the missile, and whether it might have been a snowball with a rock inside or a rock charmed to look like a snowball. But Elijah remembered Bear from the smaller fight a week earlier and the fight that had erupted at the dragon roast in the fall.

Adrianna managed to grab Elijah before he could hurt himself by attacking the much larger student. She held the struggling boy as three of the adults ran to the fallen Daniel. Hogwarts students began to slip away in a guilty fashion, whispering among themselves and wondering who might have been responsible.

Rubeus Hagrid, who knew Daniel Flint slightly from the previous summer, was the last of the Hogwarts students to leave, with the exception of Adrianna who still had her arms around Elijah. Basil Gray pulled on the arm of his huge friend, "Come on, Rube."

"I want to know he's going to be all right."

"We'll find out later." He pulled on his friend's arm.

One of the villagers used a _Mobilicorpus_ charm to levitate Daniel and headed for the Hog's Head.

Daniel's next conscious thought was one of pain. He groaned.

"A mild concussion, I suspect," an unfamiliar voice offered.

Daniel opened his eyes, and winced with pain.

"Is he going to be all right?" Elijah asked.

Daniel recalled seeing the man at church, and vaguely remembered being told he was a physician or surgeon or some sort of medical person. "I've healed the cut. He should rest a day or two."

"I'll be certain he does," Eleanor promised.

Adrianna tapped Albert on the shoulder, "I'm going back. I can tell them that he'll recover. I don't… The next jam session… I'll let you know."

After everyone but the Dumbledores and their evacuees had left Eleanor sat down by the bunk and closely examined Daniel. She patted his arm, and left her hand on his arm in a comforting fashion. "You'll be fine. Won't even be a scar."

Elijah, who was standing behind Eleanor in nervous agony, asked, "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Dear."

"His head is hard," Albert laughed nervously.

"If I was feeling better I'd throw a pillow at you," Daniel groaned.

"Sorry, they were saying you'd be fine and —"

"Don't apologize," Daniel managed to say. "A joke was good, everyone looked like they thought I was going to die or something."

"You didn't see the cut on your head," Aberforth reminded the boy. "Looked bad, very bad… You're something of a trouble magnet. First the leg, now this. Looks like trouble follows you. They say troubles come in threes. Watch your back, Lad."

"I think this was number three," Elijah added.

"Eh?" Aberforth asked, "what besides this and the leg?"

"That witch who was here, Adrianna, I think she likes him."

Eleanor smiled, "When you're a little older, Dear, you'll realize that girls aren't trouble."

"That one is," Albert muttered.

Armando Dippet composed a letter to parents and ran it by the faculty at a staff meeting. Adjusting his spectacles he read the draft proposal, "Due to a recent altercation between the students of Hogwarts and the evacuees in Hogsmeade the students of Hogwarts will no longer be allowed to go to the village at will. The safety of the students is of paramount importance. New rules have yet to be formalized, and I request you write to the committee with expressions of your concerns and any proposals you might wish them to consider. In the interim I will only allow students to visit the village on weekends, and then only if I have received a letter from a parent granting permission. For the sake of safety, in the absence of permission your child will not be allowed to leave the grounds of Hogwarts." He set the parchment down on the table and looked around, "Well?"

Albus Dumbledore, as usual and to Headmaster Dippet's annoyance, spoke first, "My problem, Headmaster, is that the note makes it sound like the evacuees represent a threat to the students. That has not been established in either last autumn's scuffle or the rock-throwing incident this weekend. In fact, it would appear from the latter event that the evacuees are in greater danger from the students than the students are from them."

Armando Dippet did not like Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore was a brilliant teacher, but his attitude bordered on insufferable. The man had a smug air about him, as if he knew he was always right and anyone who disagreed with him a fool. The rumors were that he would probably be the next choice for headmaster, and some of the Governors desired an early retirement for Headmaster Dippet, who usually felt a defensive in the face of the other wizard's frequent criticisms, "For all we know it was one of the muggles that threw the rock."

"That hardly seems likely."

"But you said we don't know who threw it."

"That's true."

"Then if there were more of them present the simple odds favor the idea. But I did not ask you all here calculate odds or to find the guilty party. My concern is the safety of the students."

Brutus Poppins, the burly charms professor, spoke up. As usual he tried to find a compromise between the Headmaster and Professor Dumbledore. "While I agree with Albus that the rock more likely came from the hand of a student I must also agree with the Head's concerns. There seems to be friction between the students and evacuees. We could blame the evacuees – muggles often react to us with fear and hatred. We could blame the students – some have reacted to the presence of muggles in the village more strongly than they ought. But it does no good to point fingers and try to blame one side or the other. The friction that exists creates the potential for further problems. I accept and approve the Headmaster's letter to parents, as read, for the policy until such time as the Governors might define their own policy."

Headmaster Dippet nodded at the speaker, "Thank you, Brutus. Other discussion?"

Students and townspeople grumbled at the news. For students it meant less freedom. For the shops in the village it meant less business. The ban only deepened Tom Riddle's hatred for the muggles in the village. Without a parent to sign a permission slip he was condemned to the school grounds with the exception of trips to the church for religious services. Which, in the case of Tom Riddle, meant he was forbidden to make any open trips into the village and the shops. He might sneak in clandestinely, but that galled just as terribly. Muggles could freely move around in a village of wizards, but he could not.

Professor Poppins, aware of the discontent swirling around the decision, suggested that Hogwarts might return to monthly dances as a way of improving morale.

For more than a week there was no apparent contact between the school and village other than the faculty who stayed at the Hog's Head or Ogg and faculty members coming in for a pint. Professor Grubbly grew so tired of hearing complaints about policies she had not made and didn't like, but felt compelled to defend as a teacher at Hogwarts, that she began coming back to her room later and avoided the common room altogether. If Wilhamina needed anything she would sneak into the kitchen by the back way, where Eleanor was always willing to fix a little something for her and lend a sympathetic ear. Ellie was terribly good at sympathetic listening, Wilhamina was frequently shocked to suddenly realize how long she had rambled on, and how often the conversation seemed to end up on any recent message from Flavius Plank – or the lack of a message from him.

A week and a half after the snowball fight, on Wednesday night, Albert jumped at the familiar loud knock on the window.

"You are such a coward," Adrianna laughed as she crawled in the window.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be here," Albert hissed.

"I'm not."

"Then why are you here?"

The witch looked puzzled, "I was never supposed to be here. How is this any different? Where's Handsome?"

"Daniel's helping in the kitchen," Elijah called from the middle bunk.

Albert sat down to work on tuning the crystal set to pick up Charlie and His Orchestra. Adrianna put her hand down on the headphones to keep him from picking them up. "Jam session Saturday night at Hufflepuff."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be there. Unlike some people I don't break rules."

"The rules are that I'm not supposed to be here. There are no rules against you coming out to the school."

"I don't know, what–"

"All the Prince's Men need you."

"What are the prince's men," Elijah demanded.

"The wizard who plays trumpet insisted we have a name," Albert explained. "I think it was the pianist who suggested All the Prince's Men."

"So you're a real band?" the boy asked, excited by the idea.

"No," Albert answered as Adrianna told him, "Yes."

"No," Albert repeated and picked up the headphones to tune in the program.

"Yes," Adrianna told Elijah.

Twelve minutes into the program Daniel entered the room. The girl pulled off the headphones and handed them to Albert. "Let me see your forehead," she told Daniel. She gave him a firm but gentle push and he sat down on the edge of the lower bunk. Adrianna sat on his knees, put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him close, staring at his forehead. She studied him closely, very closely; he felt her breath warm against his face. Her lips were close to the boy, very close. Gentle fingers caressed the boy's face.

"Looks like you'll be fine," she sighed with exasperation at the muggle's inability to take a hint.

"You need to hear this," Albert called softly and the witch left Daniel to put on the headphones.

On Saturday the crowd at Hufflepuff filled the common room and spilled into the hallway outside, with the house door left wide open.

The musicians lost track of time as they played for the enthusiastic crowd. Bertie was given more time for his waltzes, and Bunny provided vocals for a couple of novelty songs and once left his drums to play banjo.

The Hufflepuff dance drew sufficient attention that on Monday evening Professor Grubbly told Albert, "I've been asked to tell you to come out to the school tomorrow at four-thirty."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Is he in trouble?" Elijah asked.

"I told you, I don't know. I'm just the messenger."

Alistair stood at the front of the school watching for Albert and waved both arms to attract the muggle's attention. Albert returned the wave, and Alistair pointed to the front doors of the building as the point of entry rather than the usual side door.

"What's this–" Albert tried to begin when they entered the building.

"Hurry," the Ravenclaw told him, pulling the younger boy's arm. "You're late."

"No I'm not! I–"

"Then hurry anyway. Come on!"

Bertie, Bunny, and Adrianna were already standing to one side of the unfamiliar room at the top of a flight of stairs when Alistair and Albert arrived. Albert had seen the older wizards and witches around the village, and knew the names of about half of those present, but knew none of them personally.

"This is the muggle boy?" a man with a gray beard asked.

"The evacuee, yes, Headmaster," a man answered.

The bearded man took off his spectacles, wiped them on his robe, then put them back on and stared at the boy. "Everyone tells me the five of you play the kind of music the students like."

"Absolutely," Alistair boomed. "The Prince's Men are as fine a group of musicians as–"

"Thank you, Alistair," Professor Poppins sighed.

"We are thinking of holding a ball next month," Headmaster Dippet began, "and–"

Brutus Poppins coughed softly, "Excuse me, Headmaster, a dance rather than a ball."

"Dance? Ball? What's the difference?"

"The term balls, of course, are formal. The dances will be informal. The students will not be required to wear dress robes."

"Not wear dress robes?"

"They are welcome to wear them, if they so choose. We will leave it to the students to decide how they wish to dress."

The Headmaster turned back to the musicians, "We have not been able to procure a dance band on this short notice, and are wondering if you would be able to play. You will, of course, be compensated for the evening."

Alistair spoke up quickly, "We would be honored, Headmaster. And I believe the students will enjoy an evening to remember when the Prince's–"

Bunny clapped a hand over Alistair's mouth and began pulling the Ravenclaw from the room. "Yes, we're happy to perform."

Bertie backed toward the door, with Adrianna and Albert following him, "As Alistair said, we are honored you asked us. We'll do our best."

Alistair struggled free of Bunny's grasp outside the office, "We need a crooner," he told the others as they went down the stairs. "A crooner and a girl singer."

"I sing," Bunny pointed out.

"And you do well with novelty songs. But you're no crooner," Alistair reminded him. "Bertie?"

"You do _not_ wish to hear me sing," the pianist stated emphatically.

"I know a girl singer," Albert offered. "Do you remember Judy from the Christmas Eve service?"

"She has a good voice," Bertie agreed. "Does she like your sort of popular music?"

"Loves it. I got to know her over the summer. Great repertoire and incredible voice."

"Any crooners among the evacuees?" Alistair asked.

"Not that I know of."

"We could hold auditions," the trumpeter suggested. "Competition to–"

"Or you could remember we were asked even without a crooner or a girl singer," Adrianna told him. "Judy has a good voice. If she can sing with us, good. If she can't I say we don't worry about it and go ahead with the five of us."

"We'd better ask Mrs. Higgs," Albert told them.

"I'll ask," Alistair told them. "I can be very persuasive."

"That's true, but can you go into town?"

"It's a school function… I'll bet one of the teachers will sign a note for me, if not Al can ask."

Mrs. Higgs had the girls in the living room with her as Alistair launched into his sales pitch. Judy seemed excited by the proposal and turned to the old witch, "Can I sing? Please?"

"Can I sing too?" Shirley chimed in.

"Uh, the invitation is really just for Judy," Alistair explained. "You're too young for–"

"I'm six!"

"The dance will go too late for you, young lady," Mrs. Higgs told her, "you'll need to be in bed." She looked at Judy, eager to go, and to Alistair. "I will give my permission on one condition."

"Yes?" "What is it?"

"I want Mary to go with her."

"Me? Why?" Mary wanted to know.

"Judy will not be singing all the time. I want to make certain she has a friend there. Albert will be too busy playing the clarinet."

Judy grabbed Mary's hand, "Please? Please say you'll come."

"All right, I–"

Judy hugged her friend, "Thank you!" Then she hugged Mrs. Higgs, "Thank you!"

Mrs. Higgs didn't really think Judy needed Mary as a chaperone, but the old woman worried about the girl who had lost both her parents. She hoped the dance would be good for Mary, but Hogwarts would not have let her attend, nor would the girl have been willing to go on mere suggestion. Declaring that Mary was a condition of Judy singing with the band could overcome both obstacles.

Singapore fell the Japanese on February 15. With England struggling to survive in Europe the British and native troops were ill-prepared to defend most of the Eastern colonies.

Albert had never seen the Great Hall at Hogwarts. He felt nervous as he arrived with Judy and Mary. The band had met, and rehearsed, they had a playlist for the evening and still the thought of the evening frightened him. The jam sessions had been friends playing around for fun. Tonight was serious, they were a band. They had to perform well, there could be no stopping halfway through a piece, laughing and starting over.

Bertie, Bunny, and Alistair were already on a platform at the end of the room. A piano was there and Bunny was setting up his drum kit. The heavy drummer stopped as Albert introduced Mary to the others, and she offered to help Bunny if she could. It wasn't clear if he needed help, but he said he'd be delighted and had her moving things further or closer to him in order to get it 'just right', when Adrianna came running in, breathless and apologizing for being late.

"Seven minutes until the doors open for the students," Bertie scolded. "Why were you late?"

"You don't want to know."

"I think you owe it to the rest of the band to–"

"It's a girl thing. You really want to hear about it?"

Bertie blushed, "Ah, no. Students aren't here yet. You're on time. Everything is good."

Almost all the students were there. A number of students, mostly Slytherin, had announced they would not attend in protest of muggles at the school. It had soon become apparent, however, that their protests were not going to affect whether the dance happened or not, that most of the students wanted to be there, and if they were able to stop it by their protests it would bring the resentment of most of the student body down on their heads. Under such circumstances even many of those who objected came to the dance – hoping it would go poorly as a reason it should never happen again.

Rubeus Hagrid stood with the young wizards lined up along one wall trying to work up the courage to cross the hall and ask a witch to dance.

"I'm going to ask Betty for next dance," Basil told his large friend. "You can do it. Pick a girl. You can't stand here like a dummy all night."

"Why not?"

"We're here to have fun."

"I'm having fun. I like the music."

"It's more fun it you dance. Ask Nancy."

"I don't think I should."

"I'm trying to help you, Rube. Work with me." Basil looked around the hall. He knew some of the witches would turn Rubeus down on general principles. He needed a girl or two he felt confident would dance with his friend. After the ice was broken he felt certain Rubeus would be out on the dance floor. "Who's that girl over in the corner?"

"Which girl?"

"That one," he pointed, "dressed muggle. Is that the friend of the singer?"

"She is a muggle. Her name is Mary, I met her this summer while I was staying in Hogsmeade."

"So you know her?"

"Yeah."

"Ask her."

"No, I–"

"Look at her. Poor girl standing all alone, not a friend at the school. No wizard is going to ask her to dance. Must be awful to feel all alone like that, I–"

"Fine, I'll ask her to dance."

Basil gave his friend an enthusiastic shove to get him moving before Rubeus could change his mind. Hagrid almost tripped from the force of the push and a couple students laughed at the near stumble. But the large boy kept his feet and crossed the floor towards Mary while Basil sped in the direction of the second year Ravenclaw.

Hagrid blushed red as he approached the girl, "Uh, hello."

Mary smiled, "Hello Rubeus. How are classes?"

"Fine… I… uh… My friend said… I… Want to dance?"

"I don't–" Mary began.

"That's okay," Hagrid said and started to back away quickly.

She caught his arm, "I was trying to warn you. I don't dance very well."

"That's okay. I'm probably worse."

"They're doing a Balboa out there. I can't do that at all."

"Yeah, I'd just embarrass both of us. Maybe a waltz or something later."

He tried to back away again. She caught his arm again. "You could stay and talk until they play a waltz."

Rubeus saw his smaller friend out on the dance floor and shrugged. "All right," he answered and moved over to stand beside her against the wall.

Basil was concerned that his friend stayed with the muggle the rest of the evening. They did get out on the dance floor a couple times, but Rubeus needed to make more friends among the witches at the school. He wondered if he should ask the muggle girl for a dance just to force Hagrid to look for another partner, but then a Hufflepuff witch smiled at him and he lost his train of thought.

Some of the faculty of Hogwarts had been tepid towards the music at the dance, but the dance had been held for the enjoyment of the students. "And they loved us!" Alistair reminded Professor Poppins and Headmaster Dippet as he pitched the idea of the band performing for the next dance.

Tom Riddle spent much of Easter break in the library. He was such a fixture that Miss Dugan often tossed him the keys and he let himself into the storeroom for damaged books and the founders' archives. She even trusted him to use his wand for light, despite the rules forbidding students to carry them into the room. It saved Tom the trouble of leaving a fake wand at the desk in order to smuggle in his real wand. He needed light as he studied the old floor plans. _"One of these must show the location."_ He studied the floor plan identified as belonging to Salazar Slytherin for hours, and found nothing. There had been secret exits constructed with the building so that Slytherins could leave. The tunnel was only used in dire emergency. The window on an upper level was used far too often and for frivolous trips – such as the younger Prince girl sneaking out. He would find the marks indicating the secret exits he knew, then search the diagram for others. But as much as he peered at the diagram and used every revealing spell he knew he discovered nothing.

_"If Slytherin built the chamber and put in a tool or weapon of some kind to protect the school it would have been useless to leave it a complete secret. There must be some record so it can be found and opened."_ Two ugly thoughts entered his head after that train of reasoning. One was that the Chamber might be myth as the other houses all thought and that he was chasing a mirage. He put that out of his mind. A second possibility was that the location of the chamber was to be handed down to one Slytherin at a time, and that plague, goblin war, or some other disaster had killed the one with the knowledge before it could be passed on. _"He would not have let that happen. He had to have left some indication that a true Slytherin could find."_

He decided that comparing Slytherin's floor plan to the diagram of another founder might help provide the solution, and his hunch turned out to be wildly accurate. The diagram labeled as belonging to Slytherin had not belonged to him, but to another founder. The parchment with Slytherin's notations was filed as belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw. Generations who had sought a clue to the location of the chambers had studied the wrong floor plan.

The markings were tiny, nor were they marked right by the hidden exits. It would have been easy to mistake it for an accident, in fact Tom dismissed the first he saw as a mistake. Then he discovered the second. While they were not actually by the window and tunnel they were exactly the same distance and direction from exits. A Slytherin who knew of the exits would know the marks were purposeful. There were supposed to have been other secret entrances, which had been destroyed by later renovations to the building. Tom frantically searched the diagram for other marks and found three, possible four or five. Two of the marks were subtlety different. Perhaps they really were accidents, slips of the pen on the ancient floor plan – or perhaps one of them marked the entrance to something more important than a mere exit.

Tom noted the locations with the pencil sketch he had made of the floor plans and returned the diagrams to their original cases. He wanted to start the search for the Chamber that day, it was all he could think about. But he also realized that opening the Chamber so soon after his time in the archives would certainly draw suspicion to him. There were still fools like Godric Gryffindor in the wizarding community who might oppose the use of some weapon. Even with desire gnawing inside him he would have to postpone the search until the fall.

Tom locked the archives and restored the protective spells, then returned the key to Miss Dugan. "I think I've finished my project. I don't know if I'll need to visit the archives again."

"Did you find what you wanted?"

"No," Tom sighed. It was difficult to lie when he felt such joy. "I couldn't find anything specific reason for the quarrel between Gryffindor and Slytherin, just that they disagreed about the future of the school. Does Hufflepuff have any traditions about their quarrel? I didn't look at her papers."

"That they quarreled about the school's future is the Hufflepuff tradition. House tradition is that she was the one who kept them in line after they were no longer talking with each other and made certain the school was continued when they each would have gone off and tried to found his own school." Miss Dugan smiled. "Hufflepuff witches have a little tradition of their own about the quarrel."

"What's that?"

Miss Dugan made a show of looking around to make sure no one would hear what she was about to reveal. Then, with her finger she gestured for Tom to step a little closer. She leaned towards him and whispered, "The quarrel grew because men are stupid and won't admit when they've made a mistake."

It took Tom a second to realize she was making a joke. He chuckled appropriately, thanked the librarian for her help, and left the library. _"Slytherin didn't make any mistakes."_

Certain he had solid leads toward finding the Chamber of Secrets Tom decided to work on his other clandestine project, discovering exactly what a horcrux spell accomplished and how it could be cast.

A northern goshawk waited on the desk Septimus Weasley when he reported for duty at the Avignon compliance division of the department of national security at the ministry of magic. He had no idea what the letter on the bird's leg said. He caught the name of Tullius Hagrid as he looked at it, but the letter was in French and might as well have been in Greek. He sent the letter for translation and looked through his files of wizards and witches serving in the armed forces. Tullius Hagrid, fluent in French, Spanish, and Basque, had been sent to southern France to work with the Resistance there. The file mentioned a son at Hogwarts, but no addresses for other family.

Septimus felt a sinking in his stomach. If Tullius Hagrid had been captured he would be identified as a spy and subject to summary execution. In his position Weasley had yet to receive good news and didn't think the string was going to be broken today.

The translated letter, which hit his desk a half hour later, confirmed his fears. The letter bore a name for neither sender nor recipient – in case it fell into unfriendly hands.

_To Whom It May Concern:  
I regret to inform you of the death of Tullius Hagrid, a man who gave his life for the cause of freedom. Monsieur Hagrid was betrayed by a Vichy agent who had infiltrated a cell of the Resistance. He died at the hands of the Gestapo. When questioned under veritaserum the traitor confirmed that Tullius Hagrid had said nothing to betray those with whom he worked. He did not break the Avignon Oath. At this time of great loss I do not know if his family can take any comfort in the fact the swine who handed him over to the Boche will not betray another victim.  
–S_

Basil and other Gryffindor friends did their best to be there for the large boy. He also took comfort in talking with Professor Grubbly.

Slytherin faced Hufflepuff for the first quidditch game of the Spring Term. The Slytherin team felt confident as they ate breakfast on Saturday morning. Hufflepuff had the reputation for the weakest quidditch teams at Hogwarts, and this year's team looked to follow that pattern of less than stellar performance.

Most wizards and witches accepted the prominence of the snitch in quidditch as part of the game's old tradition. A minority claimed it was a hold-over from the pre-modern development of the sport and should be abandoned because it added too much of a random element of luck to the game. Supporters of tradition argued that a good seeker would, on average, find the snitch more quickly than a poor seeker. And as long as scores were totaled for an entire season of play any element of chance introduced by the snitch would be eliminated.

Luck smiled on Hufflepuff on the morning of April 18. They were slightly weaker than Slytherin in every position, but Hufflepuff never surrenders and in the early afternoon Slytherin only enjoyed a ninety point advantage for goals. The snitch literally collided with the Hufflepuff seeker. Guinevere Thomas let out a shriek of surprise; completely unaware of what had happened. She turned, saw the gleam and snatched quickly at the sphere. Her second shriek was on of joy as she made the capture, ending the game. Guinevere bounced up and down on her broom with joy before trying to fly a victory lap around the pitch. Unfortunately brooms are notoriously difficult to steer when the rider is bouncing up and down with joy. She collided with Hufflepuff's junior, who had been about to hit the bludger, and with Slytherin's Humpty-Dumpty in no position to bat the metal sphere it went rogue, flying around the pitch as Hufflepuff's junior tried to recover from the collision. The rest of the players had landed before the juniors had their bludger under control and wrestled it to the ground.

Bear stomped across the grass to the Hufflepuff captain, spat out his, "Congratulations," and stomped back to his team. There would be no party in Slytherin that night.

Eleanor was making porridge on Sunday morning, April 19, and Aberforth was just sitting down to talk with her for a few minutes after milking the goats when a loud shout could be heard from the top of the Hog's Head.

"Albert," Eleanor sighed, "he's going to wake Wilhimina."

"He should know better than to make that much noise of a Sunday morning. It almost sounded happy."

There was a loud clatter of feet as someone dashed down the stairs and Elijah burst into the kitchen, "The Americans bombed Tokyo!"

"What?"

"Yesterday. Albert just heard it. The Americans bombed Tokyo."

Eleanor removed the pot from the heat, covered it, wiped her hands on her apron and went upstairs with Elijah and her husband.

Professor Grubbly was already in the room, in her nightgown. She had come up to complain about the noise but wanted to know what had happened.

Albert had the headphones on, hoping for further news.

"Someone named Doolittle–" Daniel tried to explain.

"Dr. Doolittle?" Elijah wanted to know.

"No, that's just a book," the older brother explained. "A pilot or commander or something took some bombers and flew over Tokyo and bombed it." Albert was taking the headphones off, the BBC had moved onto other news stories. "The Americans have bombers with that much range?"

"I don't know," the Jewish boy answered. "I wouldn't think so. But could you get a bomber on an aircraft carrier? I wonder if it's real or just made up like the German news broadcasts."

I hope it's real," Elijah said. "The BBC doesn't lie, does it?"

"They say the first casualty of war is the truth," Aberforth told him. "We found out the government told us a lot of them during the last war. Also possible we're just repeating some lie from the Americans and we think it's true." Elijah looked sad as the master of the Hog's Head spoke. "Don't worry, Lad. We can trust our government to tell us a lot more truth than the Germans will hear from theirs. I hate war, but I hope the story is true."

Before the next Hogwarts dance Basil warned his friend, "You don't have to spend all your time with that muggle girl. People will talk. Ask some witches to dance."

"She understands me."

"She's a muggle. How can she understand you?"

"Both of her parents have died in the war."

"Oh… Um… Look, it's great if you want to dance and talk with her. I'm just thinking of your reputation, and hers, I–"

"Being with me hurts her reputation?"

"Yes– No–," Basil stammered. "I really sound stupid, don't I?"

Rubeus shook his head yes.

"I'm just trying to say, people will see the two of you as a couple or something if you spend too much time around her. I'm sure she's a good girl, I know you're a good guy. But I don't think you want students to think you're in love with a muggle girl, do you?"

Hagrid thought for a minute. "No, No I guess not."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't be her friend. Great if you want to dance with her and talk with her. I'm just saying it would be nice if you asked some witches to dance too." The smaller wizard playfully punched his friend in the arm, "There's a lot of you to go around. Don't spend yourself all in one place. Share the wealth with some of those witches who'd love to have someone tall dark and handsome sweep them off their feet."

"More likely they'll be afraid I'll step on their feet with these gunboats," Hagrid said, pointing to his boots. Both laughed.

The news of Hagrid's loss was known to everyone around the village. "I've never heard you talk about your mother," Mary commented during a slow waltz. "Is she dead?"

"Not that I know of."

"Not that you know of?"

"She left. My dad brought me up."

"I'm sorry… She must have been a large woman."

"Eh?"

"I mean; you're so tall. Your mother must have been tall too."

"Not so tall. At least not so tall among her people."

"Among her people? I don't understand."

"No one has said anything to you?"

"About your mother? What are you talking about?"

"My mother is a giant."

"A giant? A real giant, like in the story books?"

"I don't know what story books you're talking about, but my mother is a giant. Giants are… Well, most giants are kind of wild. Some of the people out here at the school worry that I'll get all crazy and start bashing people with a club."

"Honestly?"

"Yeah. That's what they think."

"They're the ones who're crazy," she told him and hugged him a little tighter as they danced.

Adrianna did not look happy the following Wednesday as she went in the third floor window at the Hog's Head. "Have you heard who's going to play for a dance over at Little Easley?"

"Some band I want to hear?"

She shook her head no.

"I can't imagine they can get a big name band up here."

"They didn't."

"I give up."

"All the Prince's Men."

"There's some group with our name playing?"

"No, you idiot. Alistair did something, I don't know what, and we're supposed to perform."

"You're joking?"

"I wish I was… Anyway it sounds so crazy maybe it will all fall through. I hear they usually just play records over there."

"Alistair got us booked to play a gig in Little Easley?"

"That's what I just said."

"But they have no idea who we are."

"Like that would stop Alistair. He told them we'd take half the regular pay they give a band. Then, if they like us, they'll give us regular pay – and the half we missed the first time – when we play the second time."

"Second time?" Albert groaned. "Mrs. Higgs will never let Judy go the first time."

"Alistair said he'd talk to her."

"We should put him in a bomber and drop him on Berlin. Maybe he could talk Hitler into surrendering."

"I'm not sure even Alistair could pull that off."

"But at least he'd be in Berlin and wouldn't be a threat to us. Hey, if they have to pay us more for a second performance they'll probably never have us back."

Mrs. Higgs was reluctant to allow Judy to go to Little Easley with the band. The dance was scheduled to last so late that she didn't want Judy and Mary to be traveling back after it ended. Alistair spent the entire profits for the performance making promises to secure Judy's voice. They would find a couple rooms in Little Easley and spend the night – returning to Hogsmeade early the next day. He would find a faculty member to chaperon the group. He talked Professor Grubbly into agreeing to serve as chaperon without telling her that the rest of the band didn't even know of his plans.

"Are you out of your mind?" Adrianna asked when he told the rest of his plans for them.

"I have classes I need to work on," Bertie complained.

"You always get high marks," Alistair assured him.

"And that's because I study."

"So basically you've got us performing for free," Albert pointed out.

"When we have jam sessions at Hufflepuff we don't charge," Alistair pointed out. "Hey, do you think we could?"

"No!" "You're nuts!" "No!" "Forget it!"

"Just thinking. Always looking for new ideas, that me. I'll bet a group from Hogwarts has never played at Little Easley before."

"That's a safe bet," Bunny agreed.

"Oh, and of course we'll need to rent a wagon to get over there. Can't arrive on brooms."

"Are we going to get any pay for this?" Albert wanted to know.

"You've got to spend money to make money," Alistair shot back.

"Well we're certainly spending money," Bunny agreed. "When does the making happen?"

"Next time, this is like an audition, we'll get paid more next time."

"I'm not at all certain I want a next time," Bertie grumbled.

Albert felt guilty about the time he spent away from the Hog's Head and helping there. "Could I give you any money they pay me when I perform?" he asked Aberforth when he found a time alone with the wizard.

"No need," the man smiled. "You earn it. You keep it."

"But you've done so much for me. I feel like I'm not doing my share of work around here."

"You lend a hand when you're able. I've no complaint. You've probably brought in more customers to hear the news you've learned on the wireless than I usually have. Just let Elijah or Daniel listen to the broadcasts when you're gone and I consider you've done plenty."

"I feel like I'm letting you down by being gone."

The old wizard looked thoughtful. "Some build walls, and some build bridges. Too damn many want to keep their walls. Your band is building bridges. World needs more like you."

Albert looked puzzled, "I don't understand what you're saying."

Aberforth laughed, "Many of the good ones don't." He put a hand on the boy's head and mussed his hair. "If you're anxious to be helpful let's go ask Ellie if there're any chores we can do now."

The second quidditch game of the Spring term saw Slytherin against Gryffindor in both teams final game of the season. Gryffindor already had two wins and wanted to win the final game and capture the quidditch cup for their house. Although Slytherin had the loss to Hufflepuff on their record they had scored enough points in the two games that they barely trailed Gryffindor, a mere sixty points separated the two. Two of Gryffindor's chasers had been trained by Minerva McGonagall and played at a high level, but their third chaser still didn't coordinate well with the others. Slytherin's chasers, in their second year together, played better as a team. Slytherin's keeper had trouble handling the two more experience Gryffindor chasers, but it took Gryffindor most of the day to build to a seventy point lead. Ferret's capture of the snitch gave Slytherin an eighty point margin of victory and put them in position for the quidditch cup. Without an extraordinarily long final game by Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff it appeared that Slytherin would win the cup.

All the Prince's Men had a meeting at Hufflepuff to work on their playlist for the Little Easley performance. After the numbers for the evening had been worked out Alistair had several suggestions for encore numbers if the band proved as popular as he assured them they would.

"Do you find it funny that everything he's suggesting has a trumpet solo?" Bunny asked the others.

"I, for one, do not find it amusing," Bertie answered.

Bunny pulled some sheets of parchment from under the pile of music on top of the piano. "I may have the perfect number to end the evening," he told them. "One of my own arrangements."

"You arrange?" the muggle asked.

"But of course, Al. I'm a wizard of amazing talents."

"Is this one of your damn novelty songs?" Alistair complained.

"There is no such thing as a _damn_ novelty song," Bunny told him primly. "And you mustn't complain. This has a very important part for you."

"It does?" Alistair asked, brightening visibly.

"Absolutely," Bunny assured him, then turned to the others. "Someone in Ravenclaw whispered Alistair's dirty little secret to me."

"No," the trumpeter whispered, turning pale.

"What is it?" Albert wanted to know.

"Tell us!" Adrianna demanded.

"Don't say it!" Alistair begged.

"Sorry, old man," Bunny apologized to the Ravenclaw wizard, "but this bit of news is simply too juicy to ignore." He turned to the others. "You'll never guess who plays the bagpipes."

"Stalin?" Adrianna suggested.

"What?"

"Well, you said I'd never be able to guess. But after hinting as some sort of dark and dirty secret for Alistair he was obviously who you expected us to choose. So, if I can't guess who plays the bagpipes there is really no point in guessing at all. But I'm picking Stalin."

"No," Bunny told her, "it's Alistair."

"She's quite right, you know," Bertie told him. "You did say we wouldn't be able to guess, so that should have ruled him out for the bagpipes. Maybe his secret is that copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover he keeps under his pillow."

"I don't keep Lady Chatterley's Lover under my pillow!" Alistair protested.

"Good," Bertie said solemnly. "Too much chance of it being found there. Where did you hide it so no one would be able to find it?"

"I don't have a copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover!"

"Would you like one?" Adrianna asked. "I'll sell you mine cheap. It wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be. I've got the good parts underlined."

"You're not going to have me play the bagpipes, are you?" Alistair wailed. "You can't play swing on bagpipes."

"Won't know if you don't try," Bunny told him as he handed out the music. "I have you playing Scotland the Brave straight, like Bertie and his classical pieces–"

"Waltzes are romantic, not classical," Bertie pointed out.

"Says the wizard who couldn't tell Benny Goodman from Glenn Miller," Adrianna whispered to Albert.

"If you'll let me finish," Bunny said firmly, "after you play it straight I put together a couple variations for the others to try."

Alistair proved correct in his prediction that All the Prince's Men would be warmly received.

An American unit had been stationed in the vicinity, and a number of soldiers were at the dance hall when the Prince's Men performed. The GIs managed to remain somewhat more sober than most US troops on leave and Professor Grubbly was on the floor for every dance at the start of the evening. Several soldiers however, kept asking Mary to dance and wouldn't accept "She's only thirteen," as sufficient reason for a refusal and the Professor was forced to stay at the table for the rest of the evening to protect the girl from wolves.

The Little Easely performance went well. Professor Grubbly took Mary and Judy to their room after the hall closed. As the performers packed their instruments and music Bunny coughed, "Your attention. Been confusing to have Albert and Alistair in the band. Al is Al, but someone might think Al is Alistair. We need a name to set apart our Ravenclaw."

"Brass," Alistair suggested, "call me Brass."

"We won't call you Brass," Adriana hissed.

Drumstick in hand Bunny approached the trumpet player and lightly tapped him on both shoulders. "I dub thee, Zinc."

Albert and Bertie laughed, Adriana looked puzzled, and Alistair a bit angry.

"Zinc? What kind of a name is Zinc?"

"Zinc is a metal," Bertie told him.

"Brass is an alloy of two metals," Albert explained, "copper and zinc."

"Thou art now Zinc, my son," Bunny intoned solemnly. "Continue down the path and thy might perchance become Copper someday. And, should thou play thy cards right or slip us a bribe, you might end up Brass as a reward for your virtue."

Burma fell to the Japanese on May second. With the Daily Prophet having suspended publication for the duration news often reached the village in the form of the London dailies delivered by train. The London papers carried more news than the Prophet would have, although some of the locals didn't necessarily appreciate or understand news coverage.

A couple days after surrender of Burma Charlie Hexam and Frederick Wren both looked depressed as they discussed the news from the Far East. When Albert delivered two more pints to their table Charlie asked, "Any news 'bout India on your wireless thing?"

"India? No. Why do you ask?"

"I figger it's next."

"India is too big for the Japs to take over like that."

"China had more weapons," Frederick pointed out. "For all the good it's doin' 'em. What does India have? It has that little black fellar, what's 'is name, Gadfly or somethin'."

"Gandhi," Charlie corrected him. "Bugger's name is Gandhi. Bastard writes to that Hitler, calls him 'Dear Friend'. Wants the Japs to walk into India and drive us out – says the Japs will free India. Japs come in and he'll be the first up against the wall I tell you. I think we could learn a lesson from the damn Japs."

Tom Riddle knocked on the door to Professor Slughorn's rooms. "Come in, cup of tea?" the professor called.

"Thank you, Professor. I came to return the book you checked out for me." He slipped _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ out from beneath his robes. "I very much appreciate you allowing me to see it."

"Think nothing of it. You'd have been allowed to visit the restricted section in two years for yourself. I figure the rules were made to keep immature students from hurting each other. A bright lad like you won't be causing any problems. Did the book answer your questions?"

"It did. Like I told you, I had seen a passing reference to it in some other book and had gained the mistaken idea it would allow me to divide myself in two."

Professor Slughorn chuckled, "Well, it does divide one, doesn't it? Just not like you had expected."

"I see why the information is restricted. Professor Merrythought wouldn't tell me what the horcrux did."

"Glad you see what she was thinking. Sometimes students don't appreciate the wisdom that comes with age. But she should have realized that telling a bright student not to think about it would only drive him all the harder to find out what it was. One needs a little flexibility in applying the rules."

Tom smiled, "I wish all the teachers were as insightful as you are."

The final quidditch game of the school year saw Ravenclaw playing Hufflepuff. Slytherin may have viewed the game with as much anticipation as either of the teams playing. Slytherin had a good lead in terms of total points for the year, but not enough that they could actually feel secure. A very long game, won decisively by either team, might give either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff the chance for a win. Ravenclaw felt a desperate need to win the game. To go from having won the cup the year before to three loses was a fate to be avoided at all costs.

Saturday dawned clear, to Slytherin's relief. It was perfect weather for seekers. Their team ate early and headed to the pitch to find a good spot for watching the game.

Ravenclaw had a moderate lead at around two in the afternoon when their seeker let out a shout and captured the Snitch. The students from Slytherin might have cheered for the Ravenclaw win even more lustily than the Ravenclaw students themselves. While Ravenclaw enjoyed a large margin in the win it was not enough to take the cup from Slytherin. Slytherins hugged each other in joy; tonight they would have the party they had missed after the loss to Hufflepuff.

"You should tell Adrianna to stop hanging around with that muggle," Ferret complained to Tom Riddle the day after the celebration. "And those Hufflepuffs, especially that Bunny. It's bad for Slytherin's reputation."

Bear cracked his knuckles, "Want me to ask her nice?"

"Give me a minute to think," Tom told them. Adrianna's older sister was always good for a first in potions, and while Eileen seemed to be in her own world much of the time upsetting her by threatening her sister would do nothing for Slytherin. Adrianna did well as a chaser on the quidditch team, and playing in the swing group probably made her the most visible Slytherin to the rest of the school. Tom partly reacted with jealousy to that fact – he should be the visible face of Slytherin. He should have the recognition of the entire school for his abilities. But Tom had things he wanted to remain hidden, he did not want teachers looking too closely at some of his activities. Let Adrianna be the face of Slytherin people saw, a girl who tolerated muggles and played music for all the houses of Hogwarts. Young Riddle decided she provided a veneer of respectability for Slytherin that would help mask his own activities. "Leave her alone," he told his friends. "What she's doing is good for us."

"Good for us?" Bear grumbled, "How?"

It wasn't clear if Ferret understood the point of Tom's comment, or just wanted to show himself a loyal follower, but he dope-slapped his larger friend. "Listen to him, Dummy. When people look at her they… They aren't looking at us."

Tom nodded his head, "Exactly."

Bear rubbed the back of his head and glared at his smaller friend.

The Prince's Men performed again at Little Easley a second time, and again for the students at Hogwarts

Alistair mailed off a form to have All the Prince's Men recognized by the Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts in order to get more jobs for the band. Julian Pilliwickle made it a point to lose the form so that it did not leave Hogsmeade.

Dueling Club held their competition two weeks before the end of school. To no one's surprise Tom Riddle took the mantle of Hogwart's champion. He spoke to the members on the importance of using their skills to defend what was important from those who would take it from them. Those who didn't know him well assumed he meant they should be prepared to defend their nation in case of German attack. Those who knew him better realized he was speaking of the need to protect the wizarding world from the influence of muggles.

Tom also received recognition as top fourth year at the final banquet of the school year. Most of Gryffindor felt that Rubeus deserved recognition as top student among the second years and that a prejudice towards his mother by some of the professors had unfairly robbed him of the award. Bear held up the quidditch cup when it was awarded to Slytherin to wild applause from his house. At the banquet's end the banners around the hall were unfurled, revealing Slytherin was the house of the year.

Albus Dumbledore persuaded Augustus Plank to keep Hagrid on the farm for another summer. "I can't keep doing this," the farmer complained. "You have to find someone else next year."

"Is the boy causing any problems?"

"No… Actually he does his best to be helpful. I've come to like the boy. But I told you, there is no proper room here for him. The walls aren't made of rubber. I would have told you no this summer but, well, with the news of his dad and all its best to have something familiar."

The first evening that Rubeus stopped by Mrs. Higgs house to talk with Mary the old witch stared at him, "You're that Hagrid boy?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Come closer. I want a look at you."

Her sharp tone worried Rubeus, who thought she was going to tell him to stay away from Mary. He stopped a couple feet from the woman, who gestured for him to come even closer. When he moved towards her she took his hands and peered closely into his face. She seemed puzzled, and stared longer.

"Is everything all right?" Rubeus asked.

She let go of his hands and laughed, "Everything is fine. Mary told me that you and she were friends and I wanted to meet you. You're welcome to come by the house any time you want."

"It doesn't matter about my mother?"

"Young man, I am not concerned about who your parents are… Oh, that's a lie. I was worried because of the stories one hears. I wanted to know who you are, and you are a young man of very good character."

Little Shirley was frightened of the huge boy when she first met him but soon got over her fears. Three times over the summer Mrs. Higgs asked Rubeus to drive a hired carriage over to Little Easley and take the girls to the cinema. "I feel even safer if you are with them than if I went. No one will give them any trouble if you're standing with them."

News of a US victory over Japanese forces at Midway cheered even Charlie and Frederick, but they resumed their more normal pessimism later in the month when Rommel recaptured Tobruk in Libya after a long siege. Adding to the gloom of the two old doomsayers the German army captured Sebastopol in early July.

Albert made a fast trip to London over the summer, and came back with a number of records he wanted All the Prince's Men to listen to in the fall for ideas. Other band members had promised to bring records back as well.

The Flint brothers were not able to go to London, even for a visit. Relatives who had lost their home were crowded into the flat of the boys' parents. The letters from Mrs. Flint reminded her sons of how much she loved them and how happy she was that they were safe. The letters, intended to keep the spirits up for the two boys tended to depress Daniel, making him wish all the more he could go home and be with his family. Elijah missed his family and London also, but was all over the village, knew everyone, and had become such a fixture that some even forgot he was an evacuee.

Prior to the war most of the Dicks had been raising themselves on the streets of London and couldn't tell a bull from a cow when they arrived. After a couple years on the farm they knew the routine so well they often took shifts – half of them handling the chores for one week and half of them handling chores the next. They had developed such a sense of pride in what they could do that sometimes Pericles Hart had to leave the house early to do his own chores for fear the boys would do things for him – as if he were too old or feeble to do his own work.

Rabbit and Squints, the two who were closest to their parents, visited London. Alice Hart had a cousin in London who helped them with the train station. The Dicks insisted the Harts take a holiday in Edinburgh; the Dicks would take care of the farm for them. The Harts had been scheduled to stay for two weeks, but after a week of Pericles pacing the floor and worrying they had returned home to find everything running smoothly. The couple took the second week the Dicks had promised them as a Holiday at Home, although both found it difficult not to go out to milk the cows or weed the garden.

Since the Dicks had free time because of their increased skills they sometimes hired out to neighboring farms, short-handed because so many had gone into the military. While putting up hay on the Plank farm both Blackie and Whitey tried to compete with Rubeus who worked with them. Both spent the next few days with sore muscles, unable to compete with the younger boy's unnatural strength.

Victoria Leffington, from her high position as arbiter of fashion among the girls in the village, decided it would be appropriate to allow some boy to fawn on her and do her bidding. The choices were limited and as she ran through the list in her mind she found reason to dismiss each one for faults which might damage her reputation if she associated with them. Holly Evans and Daniel Flint appeared to have the smallest number of grievous faults, but the two proved insufferable when neither showed an inclination to worship her in the manner she deserved.

An owl arrived for Wilhimina Grubbly telling her that Flavius Plank hoped to receive a week of leave in late July, and with owls being scarce around the air base would she be so kind as to inform his parents of the fact. She smiled at his obvious ploy and flattery, he was telling her she was the most important person in his life – if he could only tell one person what he was doing she was his choice.

She looked again at the date he hoped to arrive in Hogsmeade and her heart sank, she would be visiting Anne for the first two, possibly three, days of his leave. Wilhimina would have to postpone her visit to her friend. Then the witch took a deep breath. She would not ignore her good friend, certainly not for Flavius Plank – no matter how charming his dimples when he smiled. Flavius did not love her, his flirting had simply gotten out of hand last summer. His letters contained little passion… But then he knew a military censor would have checked them. The owls she received were more personal – but they were few and far between. There had been a recent stretch of almost two months when she had not received any word from him – neither by field card nor owl. If he really cared for her he would have written. If he could… Perhaps he had been on a mission of some sort and unable to write. Fear clutched her heart, what if he had been wounded and unable to write, worried she wouldn't care for him because of his injuries? What if… Professor Grubbly closed her eyes and concentrated. If he had been wounded the war department would have told his parents and everyone in the village would know of it. She studied the note again. He wasn't even certain if he would receive the leave._ "I do not arrange my life for the convenience of Flavius Plank,"_ she told herself. _"I will see Anne."_

Before going to the Plank farm to tell them the news from Flavius, Wilhimina sent an owl to Anne saying she might leave a day or two earlier than expected.

Mrs. Plank insisted, "You must have dinner with us the day you get back."

Wilhimina would have rather had a meal alone with Flavius, "I'm not sure I–"

"I won't take no for an answer," the older witch insisted. "You must get tired of taking all your meals at the Hog's Head, I'm ashamed I've been so poor at inviting you out to eat with us." She invited Wilhimina for two other family dinners while Flavius was on leave.

"Three nights?" Augustus complained when he and his wife got ready for bed that evening. "I feel like we won't see him at all."

"She's out of town the first night. Might have done it just so we could see him. She seems like a nice young witch. And inviting her to dinner is the best way to see him," his wife pointed out. "Do you remember how we never saw him during his last leave… They say that in India they tie out something to attract the tigers…"

"Small children?"

She glared at him, "I believe it's goats. They tie out a goat and the tiger comes to them."

He chuckled, "I doubt either of them would be flattered by that comparison."

"It's not a comparison… What did the Reverend call it… An analogy, that's what it is, an analogy, and you know I'm right."

Augustus had been married long enough not to disagree with his wife.

Flavius Plank arrived at the station with his duffle and a medium-sized box he carried carefully. His mother was waiting at the station for him with a wagon. "What's in the box?" she shouted.

"Secret," he called and headed for the wagon. His voice dropped in volume as he approached. "A little gift for–"

"Wilhimina," his mother finished. "I'm a bit surprised she isn't here. I know she said she wouldn't be, but… You really won't tell me what's in the box?"

"No," he smiled.

With a single train to Hogsmeade each day, and flying brooms during the day where muggles could see you a danger Professor Grubbly had trouble making connections to return the next day. She missed the meal she had been invited to at the Plank farm and arrived in Hogsmeade after dark, tired, out-of-sorts, and sore of foot. She planned to turn in and get a good night's rest then send her apologies to the Planks in the morning. The crowd in the Hog's Head seemed particularly noisy that night as she opened the front door. She hoped they didn't keep her awake and was trying to remember a silencing charm as she headed for the stairs. She didn't make it.

From a group of men congregated in the middle of the room came a cry of "Willy!" and Flavius extracted himself from the men listening to his war stories.

"I'm not Willy," she snapped as he approached.

He looked hurt by the rebuke.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm tired and in a very poor mood. I think I just need to sleep."

"Have you eaten?"

"What?"

He took her nose gently between thumb and finger and wiggled it slightly. "I asked if you've eaten. Hunger always makes me feel wretched. A sandwich and a pint of Abe's finest and you'll feel like dancing the night away in Little Easley."

Her stomach growled. "I will not feel like dancing, but I am hungry."

She pointed to a table to one side of the common room. He shook his head no, "My public is very demanding about tales of my gallantry. I'd rather listen to you for a change. We could eat in your room."

"I don't think so, Mr. Plank. Hogwarts professors have an image to uphold."

"Flavius. And what do you suggest?"

"We go to the kitchen. Ellie will whip up a little something for me and if you are very good she'll let you have your pint there."

"I'm always very good, you just don't give me the proper chance to show it."

Eleanor would not think of letting them eat in the kitchen, she asked Daniel and Albert to carry a small table and two chairs outside to the back of the Hog's Head, and she put the red-and-white checked table cloth and a candle on the table herself.

He took a sip of ale and smiled at her, "The moon and stars are romantic."

"Does the smell of the goats add to the air of romance?"

"From this day forth, whenever I smell goats I will think of you."

Wilhimina laughed. She liked the fact he could make her laugh even after a day like she had endured. But she was still tired. She decided that if he asked her to go dancing after she ate he was only thinking of his own pleasure and was the same selfish man she remembered. If he didn't ask it meant he had paid attention when she said she was tired. She wanted a man who could make her laugh and listened to her.

"That was good," she sighed as she finished.

"So, dancing tomorrow? If you turn me down two nights in a row I'll be terribly hurt and think you are trying to get rid of me."

She smiled at him, "I wouldn't want you to feel that way."

They talked longer than expected, and he was the one who insisted she turn in, "You need your rest. I won't have you falling asleep on me tomorrow night."

"Thanks," she yawned and fought the urge to kiss him. It would mean even longer before she could go to sleep.

Professor Grubbly slept almost until noon, then had to rush around the village running errands before Flavius stopped by for a walk along the lake shore they had agreed on the night before.

They stopped to watch ducks paddling near the shore and he pulled out his wand, _"Accio!"_

"What did you summon?"

"Wait and see."

A few minutes later the box he had brought with him to Hogsmeade floated through the air and into the hands of the wizard.

"A picnic lunch? I'm not hungry."

"No… I think we should try that another day though."

"You have the most wonderful ideas."

"You were the one who suggested a picnic. Are you going to ask me what's in the box?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You aren't curious?"

"No means no. Of course I'm curious. But if you're going to tease me about it I mean to deny you any pleasure in teasing me by refusing to ask – and then you will let me know sooner. And if you don't mean to tease you will tell me or let me open the box… I assume it is for me."

"Not if you're going to treat me like that," he grumbled. "A little enthusiasm would be appreciated."

She clapped her hands together, jumped up and down twice, and squealed, "What is it? Tell me! Tell me please!"

"Much better," he laughed and handed her the box. "See if you can tell what it is. I heard about it and thought of you."

She pulled off the wrapper, opened the top, and found a white sphere, larger than a soccer ball. She poked it with her finger, the leathery material yielded slightly – like an under inflated ball. "Um, what is it?"

"It's an egg. Supposed to be for a giant, talking spider."

She raised one eyebrow and stared at him. "A giant, talking spider… And you thought of me? I'm flattered," she told him ironically.

"Don't be like that, Willy," he pouted. "You know what I mean. I hear of magical creatures and of course you're the first thing I thing of."

She laughed, "Much better answer, Mr. Plank."

"And you really need to start calling me Flav now."

"No."

"When?"

"If, and I mean the if, I decide to accept your proposal, I will call you Flav."

"So… You're saying when we announce our engagement?"

"Yes."

"Then you need to start calling me Flav."

"WHAT!"

"I've told my Mom and Dad we're getting married, all the men in my outfit… Oh, can I have a picture of you to put on the wall in the barracks? Who else have I told… Mrs. Spigot at–"

"You told Mrs. Spigot?"

"Yes, why–"

Wilhimina groaned, "And she, of course, has told everyone in Hogsmeade. No wonder old Mrs. Higgs smiled when she saw me today and said congratulations. I wondered what she was talking about."

"So, you'll call me Flav now?"

"I'm not certain if I'll ever talk with you again."

He shrugged, "At least you'll have the giant spider to talk with."

She looked at the egg again. "There's nothing like this in Europe… I read something, somewhere… Africa? No… I think the Pacific." She looked up at him, "You've been flying to the Pacific theater, haven't you?"

He looked at bit sheepish at the comment, "You weren't supposed to be so smart. Even fiancées weren't supposed to know where–"

"I'm not your fiancée, remember."

"It would probably be okay to tell a wife though."

Wilhimina sighed, "What am I going to do with you, Flavius?"

He shrugged, "Well, if you're not talking with me, you might try kissing me."

She leaned towards him and smiled. His arms went around her, drawing her close. And they didn't talk for a long while.

Wilhimina ate supper with the Planks the last evening before Flavius returned to his unit.

"What was in that box Flav brought home?" Mrs. Plank asked Professor Grubbly.

"Your son has a romantic nature," Wilhimina told her. "It was an egg for a giant spider."

Mr. Plank shook his head sadly, "Flavius… Flavius… I thought I raised you right. That is not the way to impress a lady."

Rubeus, sitting at the end of the table with the evacuees grew excited, "A giant spider?"

"A giant talking spider, he says," Professor Grubbly answered with a smile. "But he might be spinning yarns of his own."

"That was what the witch I got it from told me!" Flavius protested.

"Was she young and pretty?" Wilhimina asked.

"Can I see it! Can I see the egg?" Rubeus asked.

"I suppose," the professor answered. "Why don't you come by the Hogs Head tomorrow and–"

"Tell him day after tomorrow," Flavius suggested. "You'll be with me until the train leaves and need to spend the rest of the day dreaming about the kiss I give you before I board the train."

"Flavius!" his mother said sharply, while Mr. Plank chuckled.

Anticipating a thousand questions from the boy, and wanting to be able to answer them, Professor Grubbly went to the Hogwarts library after the train left the next day.

She discovered the acromantula was only known to live on Borneo and were considered so dangerous that she knew the egg should be destroyed. She felt conflicted by the discovery. Her curiosity made her want to see the acromantula – very likely the only opportunity she would have to see such a creature. It was also a gift from Flavius, and, teasing aside, it was a remarkably thoughtful present and she couldn't bear the idea of destroying the egg herself. But it was dangerous and couldn't be allowed to grow in Britain. She doubted if the tropical spider could even survive a Scottish winter. Better to kill it now in the egg. She'd ask Rubeus Hagrid to dispose of the egg for her so she would be spared the destruction of the gift. She guessed that, like her, the boy would be dreadfully curious and want to see the creature. She would need to stress the importance of destroying the egg before the spider hatched. The monster must not be allowed to live.

Those in Hogsmeade for the summer worked hard on gardens. There was talk of having some sort of harvest festival in the fall to echo the dragon roast of the previous autumn, but the talk never moved into planning and the idea died out – everyone knew that the awards for the largest vegetables would go to the families who purchased the dragon bones.

In August General Bernard Montgomery arrived in Egypt to assume command of the Eighth Army. German intelligence knew the Americans were preparing to invade North Africa, and with more German supplies being routed to the Russian front Rommel found that keeping the Panzer Armee Afrika supplied was becoming difficult. He resolved to finish the war in Egypt quickly – before the Allies could bring more equipment to its defense and while Montgomery lacked experience in desert fighting.

* * *

I have an low opinion of Douglas MacArthur. I'll leave out items like racism or his role in the court-martial of Billy Mitchell for honesty (in later years MacArthur claimed to have opposed the court-martial). On July 28, 1932 he ordered troops to attack US veterans requesting the benefits they had been promised with tanks and poison gas. American fascists who plotted the overthrow of the US government planned to set him as the nation's military dictator. (A Congressional inquiry confirmed the existence of the so-called Business Plot to overthrow the government, but no one was prosecuted. Apparently with the US economy in shambles because of the Depression the idea of prosecuting some of the country's most prominent robber barons for treason was deemed as too threatening to the fragile state of the economy.) From 1937-41 he served as Military Advisor to the Commonwealth Government of the Philippines, but was too busy with corruption to prepare the defense of islands from the expected Japanese aggression. One of the reasons for the high death rates among American defenders was his failure to secure proper provisions. His troops despised him, calling him Dugout Doug for his refusal to leave the safest spot he could find. The US would award him the Medal of Honor for his incompetence. Later in the war the commanders under him ignored his plans for the Pacific campaign as impractical and costing unnecessary casualties. He took credit for their successes. He knew the value of a photo op and provided carefully staged photos for the American press that weren't always true. The American people, like other people, want and need heroes. Too often the label is given to the least deserving, who loudly demand the recognition they don't deserve while the truly deserving are forgotten. He is given credit for doing a competent job overseeing the occupation of Japan (but I've not researched whether that was MacArthur himself or competent aides), although he was later forced to retire after recommending the start of World War III.

The Lindy was popular for years. Sometimes it would have been called by the fuller name, the Lindy Hop, shortened from the Lindbergh Hop – from Charles Lindbergh's _solo_ flight across the Atlantic. (Almost a hundred men flew the Atlantic before Lindbergh, but doing it solo made him famous. Earlier trans-Atlantic flights had more than one man in the plane – usually a pilot and a navigator.)

After France surrendered to the Germans at the start of the war a government friendly towards the Germans was created with Vichy as the capital (the Germans occupied Paris). Some who joined the Vichy government were French fascists who embraced the ideas of Hitler. Some who joined the Vichy government were realists or opportunists who did not agree with Nazi ideology, but it was the government of their nation and they felt it necessary to work within the system for a stable society or personal gain. And some signed up with the Vichy government to work within for its overthrow and a return to free France.

First printed in Italy in 1928, Lady Chatterley's Lover could not be legally printed in England until 1960.

The Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts (CEMA) promoted morale during the war by encouraging live music performances through England and Scotland.

I don't know if Jimmy Doolittle's name would have been broadcast with the initial report of the raid on Tokyo. In strictly financial terms the Doolittle raid on Tokyo could not be called a success, it cost the US more than the amount of damage caused. But the value of the raid cannot be measured in dollars. It provided a tremendous morale boost to Americans. The US hoped it would make the Japanese start to doubt their leaders, who had assured them the home islands were invulnerable to attack. Japan was forced to redeploy their navy in response to the raid. The US bombers used in the raid could not return to the aircraft carrier from which they were launched and most were ditched in China. Some estimate the Japanese massacred a quarter of a million Chinese in retaliation for aid the Chinese provided to help the majority of the American crews escape.

Gandhi did address his letters to Hitler as 'Dear Friend'. It should be pointed out he addressed virtually everyone as 'Dear Friend'. Hard-core Gandhi apologists emphasize that the letters to Hitler called on him to stop the use of violence and the apologists insist Gandhi was right to tell Hitler to stop violence. Others label it an example of Gandhi's frequent naïveté. Gandhi did write that the Japanese would leave India free. The Indians would not cooperate with the Japanese so the invaders would just turn around and go home. Ho Chi Minh, who spent his life fighting for the freedom of Indochina - first from the French, then working with the US against the Japanese, then against the French after the US wanted Indochina reduced to a French colony again, and then against the US when it tried to prop up a corrupt regime – said Gandhi was damn lucky to be facing the Brits, the French would have just shot him. Gandhi had something of a fantasy view of history and wrote that Hindus and Muslims in the sub-continent had loved each other and lived in peace before the British East India Company [EIC] arrived and promoted hate between the groups. Not only were the Hindu and Muslims fighting each other when the Brits arrived, but the Hindus were fighting Hindus, the Muslims were fighting Muslims, and everyone hated the Sikhs [little play on Tom Lehrer there]. The EIC exploited those wars for their own ends, but they didn't create them. The EIC also tried to end the hostility between different groups (bad for profits). Gandhi called for India to abandon all technology as evil and follow his nostalgic dream of living without railroads, telegraph, cars, radio, steamships and other modern technology. Gandhi himself was exploited by other Indians seeking independence who found him a popular figurehead for the movement, but they wanted India to become a modern industrial nation. Gandhi made an excellent iconic moral crusader in the present even if his visions of India's past and future had serious problems.

Although no one realized it at the time the Battle of Midway might have been the turning point in the Pacific war. The US had broken the Japanese codes, and the Japanese plan to cripple the American fleet at the Midway atoll turned into a devastating loss for the Japanese navy. Despite Japanese losses at Midway most in America still saw the Japanese as more powerful than they really were.

The Holiday at Home program during the war was designed to save on fuel consumption. Rather than traveling to Bath or the continent citizens were encouraged to laze about the neighborhood and encouraged to organize sporting events and concerts (see CEMA) in their local communities for entertainment.


	12. It's in a Bathroom?

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. However, a story set fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as canon checker for some chapters. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

**It's in a Bathroom?  
**

The heat was oppressive as the Hogwarts students rode the train to First Night and the new school year. Hufflepuff and Slytherin students laughed at the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students – assuring the tower dwellers that their houses would be as warm as ovens while the underground houses would be cool and comfortable.

"Zinc, what's up?" Bunny called when the Ravenclaw stuck his head in the compartment where the drummer sat.

"When can we have a rehearsal?" the trumpet player wanted to know.

"You asked the others?"

"I can't get a straight answer from anyone. Bertie said we should wait until we've talked with Al, and Adriana grabbed a spell book out of some witch's hand and threw it at my head. I want a rehearsal soon, before classes get too hard."

"We were supposed to bring records from home for ideas. You bring any?"

The fifth year Ravenclaw smiled. "Big stack. You?"

"Bet I brought more."

"Loser buys winner a butter beer at the Three Broomsticks?"

"You're on."

Hagrid was helping load trunks at the station. The locals feared that house elves might seem a little too much like slavery to the evacuees and they remained a secret to the muggles in the village. Basil saw his friend, and considered calling Rubeus away, but the large boy seemed to be laughing with the men and accepted by them. "Hey, Rube!" the third year Gryffindor called, and waved at his classmate.

"That your little friend?" one of the men asked.

"I'm not so little," Basil protested, moving over to where they were loading. "Well, I'm not so little unless I'm standing by Rube here."

"If you're not so little grab a trunk," another man invited. "There's enough for all."

Even with hover charms the heat and work were draining and Basil was sweating hard by the time all the trunks were on their way to Hogwarts.

The first man who had spoken to Basil patted Rubeus on the back, "Thanks. Let me buy you and your friend something cold at the Broomsticks. Lord, but I'm glad we had you with us today. Hotter than Hell."

Two butter beers later Basil said they needed to find other friends before returning to the school. "Good luck with your classes," one of the other men at the table shouted as the two students left the Three Broomsticks.

"You seem to be fitting in," Basil commented. "Happy?"

"Yeah. It was a good summer. I made friends. When people know me better they like me."

"True enough. Any of those friends girls?"

"Some of them."

"Some? How many girlfriends you got?"

Rubeus blushed, "They aren't girlfriends. They're friends who are girls. I have friends that are guys too."

"Friends who are girls are dangerous."

"They taught me some dance steps over the summer."

Basil smiled, rejoicing that his friend was happier than Basil had expected and was starting to become better accepted.

Knowledge of the German code gave British troops an edge as Rommel prepared to throw the Panzer Armee Afrika at Egypt while victory still seemed possible. Foreknowledge of the German plans coupled with effective defensive strategy insured a win for the Allied troops. With the failure to capture Egypt it became apparent the German cause in North Africa was lost. The losses inflicted on the German troops in the Battle of Alam el Halfa were magnified by the fact the men and equipment could not be replaced. Montgomery did not press the victory, the Germans were seriously weakened but certainly not crushed and time and reinforcements were on the side of the Commonwealth if they waited. The New Zealand second division would not wait, however, and launched an attack that resulted in heavy losses. Rommel attributed the defeat to superior British air power, unaware that Ultra had given the enemy his plans. The fighting was far from over in North Africa, but victory seemed assured. Egypt, and the Suez, would not fall into German hands.

At a Slytherin house meeting Tom Riddle proposed opening the emergency tunnel.

"That is only for emergencies," Eileen Prince objected. "It hasn't been opened in decades."

"All the more reason to look at it," Tom argued. "We need to make certain no collapses have blocked the tunnel. We must preserve our heritage. I do not want it to be used as freely as the upper window. Some Slytherins use that far too often," he stared at Adrianna, "and for no good reason." Several Slytherins snickered at Adrianna, who simply ignored them. "I want us to open the tunnel, verify it remains in good condition and close it again. May Hogwarts never again have an emergency that calls for its use."

"I second the motion," Ferret agreed quickly.

Tom had reasons to examine the tunnel beyond the preservation of the house's history. He wanted to gain a sense of Slytherin's construction techniques as he searched for the Chamber. He also wanted to explore the tunnel to make certain it didn't contain some kind of hidden door to the Chamber. Even the new students, who normally were not told of the escape tunnel until the end of their first year as a rite of passage, were allowed into the tunnel. A sixth year witch who took honors in history stood in the tunnel and solemnly recited the stories of the tunnel's use, and the need for it to remain a secret to all of those outside the house. For the majority the opening of the tunnel and standing inside fulfilled their need for tradition, but Tom and a few of his circle said they would clean the passage before sealing it shut again.

No Chamber of Secrets was discovered, but Tom had not actually expected it to be found there. He felt more confident that he might be able to identify the handiwork of his ancestor and that was all he wished.

The experience also convinced him he needed spells or charms that might help him find hidden doors and passages or tunnels. He knew they existed, but they were advanced magic and beyond what he had studied. He couldn't ask a professor for help – it would be remembered if he found the Chamber and opened it. He couldn't even ask Miss Dugan for help in locating books for the same reason. Riddle sighed, he would find the materials he needed all by himself. He would open the chamber and drive the muggles from Hogwarts, but it would not be as easy as he had once imagined.

Rubeus seemed gone from Gryffindor a little more than his friends understood. They assumed he spent his time in studies at the library, but Basil had gone in search of him there and failed to find him.

"Where you been?" the smaller wizard asked when Rubeus returned to their house.

The big wizard gave a non-committal, "Around."

Basil wondered what his friend was doing. It was tempting to think he was going into Hogsmeade, but the odd disappearances didn't last long enough for that to seem likely. A girl friend in one of the other houses seemed more likely. He'd make some quiet inquiries about whether Nancy was also disappearing. Of course, if Hagrid was spending time with a witch it seemed odd he wouldn't mention to his best friend in the world… Unless he was seeing that Myrtle. That would be a good reason not to mention her to anyone.

The autumn ball was formal, and All the Prince's Men did not perform. The ball was held on a Friday night, and the band met on Saturday to listen to the records each member had brought back and talk about the ball.

Bunny brought his gramophone to the Ravenclaw common room under protest. "Why don't we listen to records in Hufflepuff?"

"Because everyone would be asking us to play so they could dance," Bertie explained.

"And last night was dead," Alistair told Albert, "D - E - A - D. The students wanted us instead."

"Really?" Albert responded.

"I don't think they were as dead as Zinc said," Adrianna answered, "but students didn't have as much fun." While she talked Bunny and Alistair were piling records on the table and measuring the height of the piles."

"Ha! My pile's higher," Bunny said smugly.

"Okay," the trumpeter grumbled, "I… Hey, did you just bring those from home or are those the ones you had in your room last year?"

"What, in Heaven's name, are you two doing?" Bertie demanded.

"Got a bet with Bunny," Zinc answered, "and he's cheating."

After a pointless argument they finally started to listen to the 78s. Bertie brought no swing records. The other four often had duplication in their records, with each having his or her copy of a recent big hit, but there were also records which were not duplicated.

"You'll love this," Bunny told them as he cranked the gramophone and put another record. "But you didn't hear it, because I don't own a copy."

"Whose record is it then?"

"What record? It hasn't been released, so I can't possibly own a copy. Now be quiet and listen to what I'm not playing." He put the needle down, and an 'oompa' sound from a tuba came from the speaker. The words began, and the Prince's Men were initially in shock, then began to laugh. Before the end they all joined Bunny in singing the chorus:  
_When der führer says we is de master race  
We heil, heil right in der füher's face  
Not to love der führer is a great disgrace  
So we heil, heil right in der führer's face_

"My word, what is that?" Bertie asked.

"Der Führer's Face, by Spike Jones and His City Slickers."

"What did you mean, we didn't hear that?" Albert wanted to know.

"No copies commercially available," Bunny explained. "Some strike, or rationing, or something. But copies were made for the radio stations. Since I'm not a radio station I must not own a copy."

"Play it again," Alistair suggested.

"How about the Prince's Men play it," Bunny suggested. "I found a charm that can let a trumpet sound like a sousaphone. What do you say?"

"I don't… What about that other sound?"

Bunny smiled and pulled a small rubber device from his robe, "And this, my friends, is the birdaphone." He blew in the device, producing a loud razzberry sound that had Adrianna and Albert laughing out loud. "I have a case of them on order," he told Bertie. "We'll use them at quidditch games – blow them when the other teams score a goal."

"You'll be blowing them a lot when you play Ravenclaw," Alistair insisted.

"More when they play Slytherin," Adrianna spoke up.

As yet another pointless argument began Albert put on one of the records he had brought to Hogsmeade. The music stopped the argument.

"What in Heaven's name is that?" Bertie demanded.

"Klezmorim," Albert told them, "it–"

"Is Klezmorim the name of the song or the name of the group?" Bunny asked.

"Neither. Klezmorim are the musicians–"

"That's what I said," Bunny insisted. "It's the name of the band."

"No," Albert tried to explain. "The word means the musicians, and maybe the style. They perform songs like that. It's what happens when Eastern European Jewish dance music spends time in America."

Alistair looked puzzled, "I'm not sure I understand. I think you're saying it not simply a particular record but some kind of music and there are others like it?"

"Exactly. I have four or five records by klezmorim.

The lots for the first quidditch game of the fall term had fallen to Gryffindor and Slytherin. Bertie and Bunny invited Albert to sit in the stands with Hufflepuff students. He recognized it as an honor to be asked and thanked them, but he preferred to watch with the other evacuees outside the pitch. Rubeus asked Basil on his opinion about whether he should ask Mary to watch the game with Gryffindor. Basil refused to give a straight answer.

"I'm not going to help you decide something like that! You like her?"

Hagrid nodded, "She's my friend."

"Is she more than a friend?"

Rubeus hesitated. "No… I don't think so. But I like talking with her."

Basil shrugged, "A tough call. You like her. She is your friend. You invite her to sit with you and everyone will think you're a couple. That's what happens when a witch and a wizard sit together. And you know that some students don't like the evacuees being in the village, and won't like her in the stands. She's going to be called things… I want to think no one here in Gryffindor would say anything, but I could point to a couple people in the house who might. And you know that wizards over in Slytherin would give her a hard time. You think she's ready for that?"

"I don't know."

"Well I sure don't know. You have to decide whether or not to ask her for yourself."

Rubeus decided not to ask her. _ "She'd probably have said 'no anyway,"_ he told himself.

The long range planning of Slytherin showed itself in the game. Gryffindor played hard, but everyone but the Slytherin keeper were starting their third year together as a team and could anticipate each other in a way that the Gryffindor team could not.

Tom studied the Gryffindor team. They were unpolished, but individually there were some talented players. The Slytherin was glad they were playing Gryffindor early before the team had more of a chance to come together. Bear was sixth year. While he showed no interest in going off to be shot at in the muggle war there was a chance he might be drafted. Tom needed to work on finding a new beater and a chaser for next year.

With the advantage of experience Slytherin claimed their victory just after noon. A longer game might have given them more points towards winning the house cup, but a longer game might also have allowed the Gryffindor seeker to catch the snitch first.

Experience also benefited All the Prince's Men at the Hogwarts dance the following weekend. Each of the musicians had a better sense of what the others could do and they felt relaxed as they played.

Some of the wizards and witches had picked up the jitterbug over the summer. Headmaster Dippet, who was minding the punch bowl to keep out possible additives, was so scandalized he tried to go out and stop it. While not approving of the dance Professor Poppins managed to steer the Headmaster from the Great Hall, reminding him that the dance was for the morale of the students, and should be allowed to continue. Professor Dumbledore took over punch duties while Professor Poppins managed his feat of persuasion with the headmaster.

Hagrid could not jitterbug, but he had picked up a good Lindy, an acceptable Balboa, and a reasonable shag over the summer under the tutelage of Mary and Judy. He danced twice with Mary and once with Judy when she wasn't singing. While he still tended to stand and talk with Mary his friend Basil was pleased to see Hagrid out on the dance floor with a few witches and wondered if one of them was the cause of Rubeus spending time away from Gryffindor.

Thoroughly disgusted that muggles were allowed to perform at Hogwarts, and that wizards and witches aped the muggle dances – and muggles were even on the dance floor – Tom began his quest Sunday evening. He felt confident that one mark in particular represented a secret opening that had been lost. The first Great Hall had been constructed by the Scots Wizards Guild after the school's foundation. Tom suspected there had been a hidden exit door when the school was founded, but the wall with the secret exit had been removed at the time the great hall was added. However he could not rule out the entrance to the Chamber being beneath the paving stone where the wall once stood.

Sunday evening, with supper over and students in their houses Tom crept down to the passage outside the Great Hall. "Lumos" he whispered and looked his pencil sketch, the floor plan had been altered a great deal, but he believed he located where Slytherin's marks indicated something. A change in style on the stone flagging covering the spot suggested there had been a wall there, now gone for centuries. If the mark had indicated a door it was long gone.

The charm for hidden treasure found nothing. A charm to reveal secret openings produced no results, as did the spell to open locked doors. Opening charms, unsealing charms, and a spell to reveal protective charms revealed nothing. A spell to reveal hidden tunnels and pits produced a very faint glow. Tom frowned. Large open spaces were supposed to produce a bright glow. This was barely visible. There might be some sort of opening below the stones, but it must be small. _"But I've not used the spell before, so maybe I didn't cast it right,"_ he considered. _"Or it might have been partially filled in during the construction."_

The mortar was loose around several of the paving stones, including the one with much of the faint glow over it. He tapped the rock cautiously.

"Stop!" a voice demanded.

Tom looked around and saw no one. He tapped the stone flagging again.

"Stop!"

"Who are you?" Tom answered without thinking. He was startled to realize he was speaking Parseltongue.

"I am me."

"Where are you?"

"My home. What are you?"

"I'm Tom Riddle. What's your name?"

"Name? What is a name?"

"Where is your home?"

"Here, beneath."

"Beneath the floor?"

"What is a floor? I am beneath this rock."

Tom wondered for a moment if the magical creature he had discovered might be the weapon left by Slytherin to protect the school. More likely it was a guardian of some sort if the Chamber were here. "I want to raise this stone. I want to see you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"If you are above. You are one who kills us."

"I won't hurt you. I want to see you."

"I have poison. Leave me alone."

"Please. I want to see you. No harm will come to you."

There was silence for a moment. "You will not harm me?"

"My word of honor."

"Remember my poison," the voice threatened.

Tom cautiously applied a hover spell to the stone he had loosened, and it lifted slowly in the air.

He was not as surprised by the adder curled beneath the stone as it was to see him. "Liar," the snake spat, rearing back. "You are one of those who kill us."

"I will not harm you. Listen, I'm speaking your language. "

"What?"

"I'm speaking Parseltongue, the language of snakes."

The snake appeared to think. "This word Parseltongue I do not know. But I have not heard the voice of one of those who kill us before."

"I would never kill you, never harm you." Tom said honestly. It was an adder, almost two feet long and dull gray in color with the characteristic zig-zag pattern down its back. The snake blinked orange eyes at him.

"Cover my home," the snake demanded.

"I seek a large opening, large enough for one of my people to pass through. Is there one here?"

"There is no such opening here, only openings small enough for my people. Cover my home."

"You could help me find what I seek."

"Your kind kill us."

"I will not let that happen. I'll protect you… Mice. I'll give you mice!"

"Mice," the snake hissed. "Mice… You will give me mice?"

"Whenever you want them. Come with me now. I know a trap that is sure to have mice in it. Come with me."

The snake's greed and hunger overcame its natural aversion for humans.

"You lied," the snake hissed when the trap proved empty.

"The house elves must have emptied it," Tom promised her, wondering who might have taken the mice. "I know other traps. I will get a mouse for you."

The next trap held three mice. They were small and she ate two. Tom watched in fascination as she swallowed them whole.

Her stomach full the snake grew sleepy as Tom promised to keep her safe and took her to Slytherin.

The serpent's natural fear of humans made it apprehensive as Tom's house members crowded around.

"Stay calm," Tom said soothingly. "Stay calm. No one wants to hurt you."

Ferret stared in wonder, "You're talking to the adder? You're really talking to the adder?"

Tom chuckled, "You could talk to her. The difference is the snake can understand me – and I can understand it." He had told them he could speak Parseltongue, but had never been certain if they believed him or thought he was boasting that he had the gift of Slytherin. Now they saw the proof of his claim.

"What's his name?" Bear wanted to know.

"Her name," a sixth year witch corrected him. "The orange eyes indicate a female."

"She doesn't have a name," Tom told them. "They just seem to be 'the people' to themselves. I don't know if she understands names."

Adrianna Prince, who was in the crowd gathered around Tom in the middle of the Slytherin common room giggled, "Well, it's not like they can be introduced and shake hands with each other."

"Will you keep her?" the witch who had identified the adder as a female asked.

"I think so. I'll call her Eve." He addressed the snake, "I'm going to name you Eve." To the snake's annoyance he stroked her head, but with her stomach full of mice she was at peace with the world and tired.

"I do not understand 'call me'… I am tired. I need safety to sleep."

"You will be safe," Tom promised. "I'll keep you safe."

The second quidditch match of the fall term saw Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw facing each other in the air. There was nothing obviously wrong with the Hufflepuff team, but neither did it possess any players with outstanding talents and was regarded as the weakest of the four houses. Ravenclaw enjoyed a substantial lead on goals when the Hufflepuff seeker, Guinevere Thomas, who had gotten lucky the year before while playing Slytherin was smiled on by fortune once again. As the Hufflepuff students cheered the win Zinc looked at the Ravenclaw witch sitting beside him, "God, there is no defeating dumb luck."

Zinc tried to punch Bunny in the nose when the Prince's Men gathered to plan the songs for the next dance. Bunny had made a comment about the recent game than incensed the trumpeter. Fortunately Bertie stopped Zinc in time, and warned the drummer to limit conversation to the dance.

For the week prior to the dance students were reminded daily that jitterbugging would not be allowed at the dance. The headmaster himself repeated the announcement at the end of supper each night. But the warnings did not stop students. Professor Poppins had to take the Headmaster from the Great Hall again and calm him down.

"You were late," the spider said as he walked beside Hagrid through the darkened halls. They stopped at mouse traps to see if there was anything for the spider to eat.

"There was a dance. The other students were in the halls until late."

"Dance?"

"It is something we do, wizards and witches together. It makes us feel good."

"Feel good?"

"Something we want to do, we do it because we enjoy it… If you are hungry and eat something, it makes you feel good. Dancing it like that."

"So, does the wizard eat the witch, or the witch eat the wizard in this dance?"

"No… I just said something I thought makes you feel good, something you enjoy. It there anything you do that you enjoy?"

"I think I would like to see the world outside this building."

"I'm scared someone will try to kill you if you leave the building."

"Why would they kill me? Would they eat me?"

"No… Some people are afraid of anything they don't know, anything that's strange. They will see you, and they will hate you because they don't know you."

With the defeat of Rommel's forces at the Battle of El Alamein in late October the Germans were in retreat in North Africa. Early November saw Allied troops landing at Algiers, Casablanca, and Oran. Some Vichy forces in North Africa tried to oppose the Allied invasion, but often resistance was hardly more than token – with some French soldiers welcoming the Allies as liberators.

Russian casualty figures were staggering, with Stalingrad under siege. Stalin wanted the Allied forces to land on the continent as soon as possible, but Churchill had no problems with Germans and Russians killing each other and he wanted to delay such an invasion – and the casualties it was certain to bring to Commonwealth troops – for as long as possible. Besides, the US troops were green. Throwing them against seasoned German troops would have been a guarantee of disaster. The Commonwealth and US forces would secure North Africa and gain experience while Russians died.

Tom Riddle decided to investigate the two marks that differed slightly from the others, thinking the familiar mark merely indicated a formerly hidden exit of some sort.

One of the marks was outside the kitchen; the other was the old lavatory for girls. He and Eve found nothing outside the kitchen – perhaps it truly represented a slip of the pen.

Tom studied his diagram. It made no sense to have the Chamber beneath a lavatory. Of course it was doubtful if the room had always been a lavatory. What would the room have been? Why hadn't he paid more attention to the notes on the old charts. The purpose for the old room came to him suddenly, leaving him sick to his stomach and very angry. The room must have been a classroom at the time of Hogwarts' foundation. One of the original classrooms – the classroom of Salazar Slytherin himself, Tom felt certain his guess was fact. And the great wizard's classroom had been desecrated, turned into a toilet.

Tom wanted to go find a Gryffindor and beat him bloody, certain this was some insult from the Gryffindors. He stared at the diagram again, seething with anger. It suddenly struck him, the old boy's lavatory next to the girls had certainly been a classroom at the time of the founding also. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin had been friends at the time of the founding. They would have located their classrooms by each other. Gryffindor's first classroom had been desecrated in the same manner, turned into a toilet. The insult was not deliberate from some Gryffindor from a later generation, the insult was an accident from some fool with no respect for true wizarding tradition. "That ends when I find the Chamber," Tom vowed.

The old lavatories were little used, but little used still differs from unused. Tom didn't want to be seen entering or leaving, or be caught inside it. He was a prefect and prefects were expected to use the appropriate bathroom.

Polyjuice potion provided a means for Tom to examine the bathroom without difficulty. He just needed to say, "Excuse me," and pick a hair off a student's robe to obtain a new identity. He took some pleasure in using the form of the muggle-loving Adrianna Prince to seek the Chamber. The spell to produce a glow in the presence of hidden open spaces was so bright it was blinding. Tom and Eve shut their eyes against the glare. For the snake it was merely a painful light. For Tom it meant there was a cavernous space near the bathroom.

He loosened a stone under the sink, lit his wand with a lumos spell and asked Eve to crawl inside.

The snake was gone a long time. Tom began to worry the polyjuice potion would wear off before she returned, but she returned and he quickly closed the small opening and left the bathroom.

"How far does it go?"

"I do not know. I went as far as I could and see your light, but it extended farther, but much farther or little farther I do not know."

"The size… How high was it?"

"Size…" the snake appeared looking for words. Tom realized they had little call for a measure of height.

"Could I stand up in it?"

"The rocks are too close at the entrance. It opened up. I could not see the top, but it was higher than you."

Tom was in the bathroom almost nightly, glad that the area was too distant from houses and library to be much used after dinner. It would require days of effort, and more trips to the library for spells on stonework, before he could hope to enter the space for himself.

Fortunately the area was not as foul as he had first feared it might be. There were spells and rituals that demanded running water and other which required washing before they could be performed. Apparently water had been brought into the school from the very beginning. Perhaps one of the founders had seen the remains of Roman plumbing at Bath or the continent – perhaps even visited the baths of Constantinople. And if there was water there was a need to dispose of it. The ancient drain was probably the reason the two rooms had been assigned their new fuction when modern plumbing went in. But the construction of the old drain had served to allow Salazar Slytherin to conceal the construction of another project, a vast space beyond and beneath the ancient drain.

The excitement was almost more than Tom could bear. He dare not explore the space he had discovered until he had fashioned a reliable entrance that he could close behind him and open at will. He desperately desired to just tear a hole in the wall and see what lay beyond the snake's search area, but if he made a hole he couldn't repair or an opening while he was exploring and someone entered the bathroom the Chamber would be known to all.

Tom could not know that the Chamber existed at the end of the opening he had found, at least he could not know for certain. Not until he had explored it for himself. Rationally he knew he might have discovered something else, another escape route, a dungeon of some sort, or a work area. He refused to accept that, he knew the Chamber had to be down there, but a small nagging voice of fear remained in the back of his mind. He had to know. If it were anything other than the Chamber he was wasting his time fashioning an entrance. He could not know if he had found the Chamber until he had explored it properly. But he dare not explore until he fashioned a secret entrance to hide the existence of the opening and which would allow him to enter and leave at will.

The pipe which supplied water to the tap nearest the opening needed to be disconnected, it was in his way. Of course, someone would report the faucet was broken and a plumber would be called to fix it. But he suspected it would be weeks before a work order was filed – the girls could be expected to simply wash their hands at another sink.

On the night he had finished his entrance he was exhausted by his labors, but he desperately wanted to explore. He needed sleep, he should be awake when he went down. The hour was late and there were expectations on him. Reluctantly he returned to Slytherin, but slept poorly

Four days later Basil Gray and Rubeus Hagrid were on their way to charms when they found Argus Filch scrubbing something off a wall. Basil would have ignored the caretaker's son like most of the students, but Rubeus was curious. "What happened?"

Argus Filch did not look happy. Argus Filch never looked happy. He glanced over. The large boy from Gryffindor was always polite towards him, "Someone painted something on the wall."

"Did is say, 'Slytherin will beat Ravenclaw' or 'Ravenclaw will beat Slytherin'?" Basil asked, referring to the next quidditch game.

"Neither. It–"

"Something dirty?" Basil interrupted. "Can I guess?"

"Hush, Basil," Rubeus whispered to his friend and nudged him with an elbow. "Let him finish."

Argus nodded slightly to Rubeus, "Thank you. Something about a chamber being discovered."

"Chamber? What chamber?" Hagrid demanded.

"Didn't say."

"I'd guess it was supposed to mean the Chamber of Secrets," Basil offered. "Probably stupid Halloween prank or something." He adopted an overly melodramatic voice, "Be afraid, students of Hogwarts, for the evil of Salazar Slytherin will rise from the hidden crypt that doesn't exist and stalk the halls of Hogwarts looking to devour those who have not smeared their doorknobs with butter."

"Doorknobs with butter?" Rubeus asked.

"If someone is dumb enough to think we're going to fall for that Chamber of Secrets story they'll probably fall for the idea that smearing butter on the knob of their bedroom door will keep them safe."

"Please don't tell anyone that," Argus groaned. "I'm the one who'd have to clean off the butter."

Basil pulled the sleeve of Hagrid's robe, "C'mon, we got to get to class." Once out of earshot of Filch Basil asked, "How many people you figure saw the message?"

"Don't know," Rubeus shrugged, "but those who did will tell everyone else."

"Think I should tell my butter story?"

"No." Rubeus told him firmly.

"I think it would funny. Anyone who believes in the Chamber might believe it."

"No. It wouldn't be nice to Argus. You heard him, he'd have to clean it off."

"That's his job."

"Cleaning butter off doorknobs is not his job. That's extra work for him. You want people making extra work for you?"

"Okay, you're right. Besides with rationing who has butter? But it would have been funny if anyone believed it. People would have been frantic and butter in short supply"

Rubeus chuckled, "Yeah, might have been funny. But don't do it."

"I said I wouldn't."

That night, when Rubeus went to the room where the acromantula was kept hidden he found the creature visibly afraid. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know?" the spider answered. "Something… Something powerful… Something that seeks death… I sense it. I do know what it is. I need to leave. I need to be away."

Rubeus suspected the spider had learned to lie and felt disappointment. Nothing had changed at the school. He did not associate the morning message with the spider's claim to be afraid.

Argus Filch was scrubbing another wall the next day. Scrubbing another wall and cursing the vandal who had painted a message about muggles fouling the village in equal measure.

Headmaster Dippet requested that prefects take extra strolls through the corridors in the evening. No one took the threat seriously; it was clearly a joke – and a joke in very poor taste.

In Slytherin those closest to Tom Riddle asked if he knew something. Had the Chamber been discovered? Had he opened it? What was inside? Riddle smiled and said nothing. The truth would be known soon enough.

The request for prefects to watch for the vandal only made it easier for Tom to paint a message on the wall, it gave him an excuse to be out. And the polyjuice potion assured him of safety. He had managed to obtain stray hairs from three faculty members and in their guise could walk the halls with perfect impunity, praising any students he saw for their vigilance - or questioning them as if they were considered a suspect.

He did not have a hair from Albus Dumbledore, but would have loved to wear the face of the transfiguration professor while writing his message. Most of the instructors were like the headmaster, perfectly willing to believe whatever Tom told them without question. Professor Dumbledore had an unfortunate habit of asking penetrating questions and it wasn't clear if he accepted Riddle's word the way other faculty accepted it. But obtaining one of his hairs remained an elusive goal.

By the Saturday of the quidditch game some students were feeling a measure of apprehension because of the messages. There still seemed no reason to think the legendary Chamber of Secrets had been discovered. The question was more in regard to what kind of lunatic wanted to paint such messages, and how was he able to do it without discovery.

Slytherin played Ravenclaw in the final game of the autumn term. Ravenclaw, still smarting from the loss to Hufflepuff, played an aggressive game. But strength of determination could not overcome Slytherin's greater experience, and Ravenclaw was called for a greater number of penalties as they went after Slytherin players. Slytherin's wide margin of victory left the team feeling confident they would retain the quidditch cup.

"Something's wrong," Hagrid reported glumly to Basil.

"What?"

"Dunno, but something's just not right."

"You aren't going to join the ones who're panicking are you?" his shorter friend asked. "C'mon, you could beat a troll in a fair fight. Those people who say they feel something's wrong are just exercising their imaginations rather than their brains."

Rubeus couldn't reveal his source, but the panic the giant spider was experiencing was clearly not a ploy to gain access to the open. It stayed close as they walked the lower halls – the upper halls were now too filled with prefects and others looking for the mysterious vandal.

Hagrid had named the creature Aragog, and it swore it heard something moving inside the walls and beneath the floor.

"I don't hear anything," Hagrid protested.

"I hear it. I feel it. Whether you sense it or not it is there."

Several students claimed the sense of dread, albeit on a lower level, than Aragog had mentioned to Rubeus. Some regarded those who claimed the feeling were only seeking attention for themselves or were the victims of some sort of panic attack. But some of them seemed perfectly rational and didn't relish the attention they brought on themselves.

For the majority of students, however, it remained more reassuring to ridicule those who claimed to sense something was wrong than it would have been to admit something could go wrong.

A message painted on a wall warned that if muggles were allowed in the school the next weekend, the weekend of the dance, the wrath would be poured out for betraying the history of the school.

The majority of the students assumed the vandal was one of the reactionaries who protested anything muggle. Every house had a few, but Slytherin in particular seemed replete with them. Students decided it was a stupid joke from one or more of those who protested every time the Prince's Men played for a dance. It was a stupid joke, and those who voiced a sense of dread were suffering from nervous exhaustion.

Tom Riddle did not think the dance would be cancelled. He counted on it moving forward in fact. But when the clarinet player, the singer, and her friend left to return to Hogsmeade the terror from the Chamber would be loosed on them.

Their deaths would serve as a warning to the other evacuees. Tom felt merciful. He would give the evacuees a week to leave Hogsmeade. But the weekend after the dance the cleansing of the village would begin if any remained. First the deaths of the muggles would had dared walk the halls of the wizards' school, then those who filled the village. He wondered what to do about Rubeus Hagrid. He was no muggle, but the mixed-blood student had no place here. Perhaps, if the evacuees abandoned the village he would use his instrument of revenge on the Gryffindor third year.

Things at the school seemed a little tense as the dance began. "What's wrong?" Judy asked Bertie.

"Al told you some wizards don't like muggles at the school?" The girl nodded. "Well some fool has been painting warnings on the walls out here–"

"Warnings? What kind of warnings?"

"Doesn't really matter. We don't know the identity of the coward, but Professors Dumbledore and Poppins will escort you home tonight. Not much chance of anyone attacking you if you're with those two."

Judy shivered, "Maybe we can have Rubeus with us too. Why didn't anyone say anything?"

"Because you mustn't let the damn fools ruin your life for you," Bertie told her, and smiled. "I dare say most of us are fully capable of ruining our own lives for ourselves without any help."

Judy smiled.

"Now then," the pianist told her. "You sing as beautifully as ever tonight and if anyone doesn't like it that is his problem. The rest of the school loves your voice."

"Thanks."

Not as many students as usual were out on the floor for the first few dances. After about half an hour, however, things began to return to normal. Hagrid was on the dance floor about half the time, and a few wizards beside Rubeus asked Mary for a dance. Basil never lacked for partners. On the witches side of the hall there was some minor disturbance when Olive Hornby began to ridicule Myrtle - for her glasses, hair, clothing and everything else. Myrtle was not the most attractive witch at the school, but the real reason for Olive's sharp tongue and ridicule was the fact Myrtle had been asked for a dance by a Slytherin student Olive rather fancied for herself. Attacking Myrtle would not make Olive any more attractive in the eyes of the young wizard, but the nasty Olive took such pleasure as she could in making fun of the other girl.

Myrtle fled the Great Hall in tears. She didn't return to her house. She didn't want anyone to see her, her makeup streaked and face blotchy from crying. She went to the old bathroom and hid herself in the furthest stall. Would anyone come looking for her? No one loved her. Olive was the worst, always making fun of her. And it wasn't like Philip even liked her – they were cousins and he only asked her to dance to make his mother happy. He wouldn't care if she never came out of the toilet. None of them would care. None of them would miss her. She would find some way to make Olive's life as miserable as Olive made hers.

Myrtle remained in the stall, alternating between plans for revenge and feeling sorry for herself. The dance would probably be ending soon. She'd stay in here a half hour or so after the end of the dance, then return to her house and claim she had been out walking with a wizard she would refuse to name. That would have them guessing about whose name she was protecting.

She heard the door open, and thought nothing of it. The old toilets were the closest to the Great Hall and someone had forgotten to use their newer house bathrooms before the dance or had consumed too much of the watery punch.

She heard a voice and her brow wrinkled, it sounded like a wizard's voice. A wizard's voice in the girls' bathroom. She couldn't understand his words… Who was he speaking too? He must have snuck in with some witch for a little privacy. Well, if Myrtle wasn't allowed to enjoy the evening no one else would be allowed to enjoy the evening. She threw open the stall door to confront the trespassers.

Tom Riddle stared at the lifeless body on the bathroom floor. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He was out to rid the village of muggles, not witches. _"Oh shit!"_

* * *

78s - Records played at 78 revolutions per minute, an old standard. Good fidelity, but you couldn't put much music on a disk.

Some were starting to call the style of music Albert played on the record klezmer at this time, but the older term freilich music - happy music - would have been more common.

There were several shags. It's a dance. Get your minds out of the gutter.

The orange eyes are a characteristic of the female adder. Males seldom hit two feet in length with females growing slightly longer. The only poisonous snake in Scotland, adders will avoid people when possible.

Putting the Chamber of Secrets under a bathroom made no sense. What Rowling was thinking? Was this supposed to be a bit of toilet humor or are the wizards she normally presents as being wildly out of touch with technology supposed to have been centuries ahead of everyone else in regard to toilet fixtures? Plumbing in medieval Scotland? Bathroom fixtures that last for centuries? The faucet didn't work from the opening day of the school and no one in nine hundred years had been curious? A student is found killed in the bathroom and no one investigates? Even if Tom disconnected the pipe to the faucet it is hard to believe no one at Hogwarts called a plumber in the fifty years between when Tom Riddle was at the school and Harry Potter. Some people complain of plumbers being slow, but fifty years seems a bit excessive and a thousand years absurd. I had several possible ways of dealing with the anachronism and chose the one with which I found least objectionable.


	13. Too Many Suspects

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. However a story set fifty years earlier will lack Rowling's central characters.

Imablack canon checks chapters when I ask. She furnished me with her understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used here as the background of the character.

I always finish stories, but this is going on brief hiatus. The low number of reviews is discouraging so I'll write something else and may finish this before I start to post it again. Chapter 14 is roughly done, chapter 15 mostly done, and I've started Dumbledore's duel with Gellert Grindelwald in chapter 16.

**Too Many Suspects  
**

Tom stared at the ceiling and cursed himself as a fool. How could he have been so stupid? He took pride in his ability to plan ahead and he had utterly panicked and seen his idea crumble, _"Why did I use that diary for a horcrux?"_ he asked himself for the thousandth time.

The short answer, of course, was that he had grabbed it because it was close and one of his very few possessions – a gift from the matron at the orphans' home who sent them to everyone – he hadn't even opened the package yet. The whole point of a horcrux was to place part of your soul where it would be safe from the normal ravages of time. The horcrux spell itself was supposed to confer some kind of durability on the object holding the separate portion of soul. But he wasn't certain how much durability was given by the spell, and the cheap paper diary had nothing of intrinsic value to it. If he left it around his desk someone could easily think it was rubbish and throw it out. If he rented a safety deposit box for it at Gringotts – when he had the money to rent a safety deposit box – the very anomaly of having something so cheap and worthless receiving such protection would make anyone with half a brain suspicious.

He should have used something of value for a horcrux. Something that was certain to be cherished, that if it were protected in a bank vault it would only seem natural that it should be protected in a vault. And if a thief managed to steal it, the thief himself would regard the object as valuable and seek to preserve it. Why hadn't he put a part of his soul into something of value? He had nothing now, but someday he would have something of value. If there had only been some relic of the founders in their archives. No one would harm a relic of the founders. Why hadn't he waited until then to cast the horcrux spell? Some day he'd have riches and treasures that would make good objects for a horcrux but it would be too late because he had…

Would it be too late? Could you only cast one horcrux spell? Was it possible to make multiple horcrux spells? That would truly make him invulnerable. Even if enemies were able to find and destroy one horcrux in the belief it would harm him the fools would never think he had more than one. And if he placed them in objects of value… Tom felt a little better. The diary was still a mistake, but it had helped show him a greater plan. He would talk to Professor Slughorn, putting it strictly as a hypothetical question, 'Could one make multiple horcruxes?' If the answer were yes he would find objects of value – perhaps relics of the founders – for later horcruxes.

For the time being he would place additional charms and protections on the diary. Long range plans were more difficult. He couldn't keep it with him. If he died in a fiery accident the other portion of his soul could perish with him. If he hid it in a safe place the oddity of a safe place for a worthless diary would alert someone to the diary being more than it seemed. If he handed it over to any trusted follower and told them to guard it because Tom's life depended on it the follower might try and use that portion of his soul as a weapon against him, threatening to destroy it.

_"Someone with a real library, who can leave it in a pile of books and papers or on a library shelf. A thief would be looking for something of greater value and leave the diary alone."_ It would require someone wealthy to have that sort of library, and of course the wealthy follower could not be told what it actually was. They'd simply be informed it was important, and the master wanted to make certain nothing bad happened to it.

As Tom thought about protection spells for the diary Bear and Ferret wandered into the room and sat down on Ferret's bed. "What was it like?" the Slytherin seeker asked.

"What was what like?"

"Killing her, that Myrtle girl."

"What makes you so certain it was me?"

"You're the lord of the Chamber. Who else could have opened it?

"Is that what everyone thinks? That I killed her?"

"I don't know if anyone else believes it was you. But we know it was you. How was it?"

Tom sighed, "I thought there'd be some kind of a thrill. There wasn't. Of course that might be because I didn't mean to kill her. I–"

"You didn't mean to kill her?"

"Nah, stupid witch was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wanted to get rid of those muggles at the dance. But she got in the way. I dragged the body into the bathroom so it wouldn't be seen, but with her all stiff and everything it took too long to go back after the muggles." He wouldn't tell even his closest followers that the opening to the Chamber was in the bathroom. "Maybe you get more of a feel for killing someone if you do it on purpose, face-to-face, the death spell or something. Any kind of a thrill when you hit that muggle in the head with a rock?"

"Yeah," Bear chuckled, "there was."

Two aurors from the Criminal Magic Investigation unit were at the school for well more than a week. Malcolm Bones had been called out of retirement when most of the younger aurors went into uniform. His face bore the scars of more curses and beatings than he cared to remember and his skin fit him poorly - the result of the rationing diet. His partner, Kiserian Kraal, was a tall, thin, black woman, who resented the last name the English had forced on her wizard father when he left British East Africa for London to try and wage a legal battle against the expropriation of his people's lands. Neither auror wanted to be there, wishing some other aurors had received the thankless job. The students at Hogwarts came from the most important families in the wizarding community and while neither auror would have advocated coercive tactics they felt constrained to a level of civility they found galling. In addition a murder in Hogwarts itself was bigger news to most of the wizarding community than the war in Europe itself. Everyone wanted answers, they wanted answers yesterday and Malcolm and Kiserian could expect to be second-guessed and criticized for whatever happened.

The two spent their first day looking at the bathroom where Myrtle's body was found and interviewing faculty members on any theories they might have. Malcolm knew Albus Dumbledore from an old case. Kiserian had overlapped as a student with Wilhimina Grubbly and finished her initial interviews with the young witch.

The two were not happy as they compared notes in Malcolm's room at the Hog's Head.

"Would help if we had a time of death," she commented.

"I'd be happy if we knew what killed her," he grunted.

"When should we get the report on the body?"

"Doc promised it by tomorrow. Look for it on Wednesday at the earliest."

"Do you think the death had anything to do with the warnings about the Chamber being opened?"

"To be honest, no. Chamber is a myth. Vandal is some wise-ass who thought it would be funny. I'm guessing the murder has nothing to do with the vandal."

"I'm not as sure as you," she said, then clarified her thoughts when he looked skeptical. "Oh, there is no Chamber. But if it was premeditated the vandal may be the murderer, putting up the warnings to create confusion about the motive or method. Or she might have caught the vandal at work and he panicked and committed murder to keep the vandalism… That doesn't work, does it? Why the method? Bash in her head with a rock if you can't do a memory charm."

"God, I hope Doc can nail down method," Malcolm seconded, returning to the earlier theme. "She left the dance, maybe somewhere between nine-thirty and eleven–"

"Would have been nice if someone looked at a watch and paid attention to her."

"They didn't know there would be a test. Wasn't found until one the next afternoon. Big window of opportunity for our murderer."

"I'm guessing early, probably before the end of the dance. But we're going to have to investigate every student and faculty member for every hour between her leaving and the body being found."

"I know. And with that time frame no one will have a witness for where they were for every minute of a twelve hour stretch of time."

She actually smiled, "If anyone does, we can probably figure him for the killer – just too damn convenient to have the alibi that tight."

"You think there's any connection with that broken faucet in the bathroom?"

"I don't know… Someone said they noticed it was broken about a week ago – that's in the time frame of our vandal. You think it's significant?"

"No… Could have been broken a month or two before anyone noticed – or remembered noticing. That big a school we're going to find a ton of coincidences – a house elf will have noticed a bag of apples was gone, or Professor Slughorn will remember that the jar of powdered toad brains was on the wrong shelf, or there'll be a broken window in the Ravenclaw tower. In novels there are a couple oddities and Peter Wimsey figures out how they reveal the murderer–"

"Peter Wimsey?"

"I was spending retirement reading murder mysteries, 'til they called me back. We're going to have two hundred people telling us things they noticed that were different about that day and they'll all be blind alleys and red herrings."

"Great. They should just let us give everyone a dose of _veritaserum _if they really want us to find the murderer."

"Not going to happen," he snorted. "You know the real reason why we can't give the serum to everyone out here, don't you?"

"And the way you ask makes me think you're not going to say because of the bad reactions some people have to it."

"Oh, that's true enough. Got to be careful with the stuff – and spiking the pumpkin juice would probably get us life in Azkaban if someone died from it. But the real reason is these are the children of important people, and mommy and daddy are deathly afraid of the family secrets the offspring might let slip if they took a dose. We can use it on a prime suspect. They might let us use it on half a dozen good suspects, but we've got to narrow it down to a half dozen good suspects first. You know what to look for when someone's trying to fool _veritaserum_?"

"You can fool it? Why wasn't that in classes?"

"Because we don't want too many people talking about it. Also, there is no good way to do it. Accomplice doing a memory charm on you works the best. Takes the real memory out of your head, but there will be a holes in the person's memory which you can pick up."

"And if the accomplice puts in fake memories?"

"I'll show you to ask a line of questions that will expose that. You ready for supper?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to face the gawkers in the public room, but I am hungry."

Professor Grubbly took her half-pint over to the aurors' table. "Can I join you, or are you doing your official job of talking murder?"

Kiserian pointed to a chair and Wilhimina sat down.

"I suppose it's too early for you to know what happened," the professor asked. "And I'll assume that if you have already formed any sort of theory you won't share it with me. I must say it feels rather peculiar. The fate of the nation is in the balance, thousands are dying in the war, and yet I feel as much or more concern about the death of one student."

"I think that's normal," the black woman told her. "The causality figures are so high they almost seem an abstraction. The death of one person you know is a tragedy you can put in more perspective."

Malcolm voiced his opinion, "And here you're figuring that someone you know is a killer, and you're looking around and wondering who. And you're wondering if that person is going to kill again."

Wilhimina shivered, "Is there anything better to talk about?"

"Not at this table. Say, do you know the muggles who were at the school that night? We need to talk with them."

"I'm sure they had nothing to do with it."

"We have to question everyone."

Wilhimina managed to catch Albert's attention and introduced him, "Al, this is Malcolm Bones and Kiserian. They are investigating the death out at the school and want to ask a few questions." She turned to the aurors, "Al plays clarinet in the band that performed that night. If you want to question him here I'll leave."

Professor Grubbly left and the aurors asked their questions. Their opinion was they learned nothing of value they didn't already know. Some at the school objected to the presence of muggles there. The threats about the Chamber seemed aimed at the three who were there that night, but there seemed no hard evidence to link the vandal and murderer, and nothing to suggest the muggles could have been guilty.

The forensics report arrived on time, but proved no help. Petrification could be caused from three known potions, one spell, two known curses, and basilisks. The examiner could rule out two of the potions, one curse, and said he had only mentioned the basilisk for completeness. Because of the manner of death he could offer no suggestion about how long Myrtle had been dead before the body was discovered. He had known Malcolm long enough to write a note at the end, "In the question of whether death could have come as the result of an accident, the student taking her own life, or murder I will first say there is no known accident which could explain the cause of death. Two of the potions are fast acting and no vial or other evidence of potion was found with the body. The slow acting potion was one of the two which could be ruled out. Basilisks are believed extinct. Therefore it appears most probable that death came from the hands of a person or persons unknown."

Every student not at the dance was questioned the second day. Like the others not at the dance Tom Riddle claimed to have been studying. Had anyone seen him?

"No. I find I concentrate better when alone."

Did he dislike muggles?

"I'll be honest. I don't care for them. I had to grow up with them in an orphanage. This is my haven of refuge. They're destroying the world around us and have no place in the school. But Myrtle was a witch. Why the question about muggles?"

There was a chance the vandalism was related to the death. Did Tom believe the Chamber of Secrets existed?

"I am a Slytherin," he told them proudly. "Even if the location and contents have been lost I believe Salazar Slytherin constructed a Chamber."

Had he heard anyone in Slytherin talking about the Chamber?

"When someone was painting on the walls I believe we all talked about it."

"Did anyone show particular interest, or claim special knowledge?"

Tom paused a moment, as if deep in thought. "No… I can't recall anyone claiming special knowledge." _"Did I talk too much? Will someone else from the house point at me?"_

"You're a prefect. You were out looking for the vandal. See anything unusual?"

Another moment's hesitation to feign deep thought. "No… I recall meeting other prefects and professors in the halls but–"

"Remember names?"

"I could probably remember some, but I didn't think to make a list. Nothing suspicious and they all had a right to be there. The headmaster had requested we keep our eyes open."

"Did you know the girl who was killed?"

"Myrtle? Slightly. I heard you both attended here?" They nodded. "I imagine you had some level of acquaintance with everyone at the school during your years here."

"Know anything about friends or enemies she might have had?"

"She and I were not in the same circles… Perhaps I shouldn't say this."

"Shouldn't say what?"

"There's been a lot of discussion since her death. I don't know this to be true, but gossip is that she and Olive Hornby did not get along terribly well."

They thanked him for his time and let him go. Kiserian wondered if any of the interviews would produce anything of value. Several students had mentioned Olive Hornby as someone who treated the dead witch badly, but Olive had stayed at the dance and returned to her house with other students, with whom she was talking until two in the morning – long after they suspected Myrtle had been killed. In addition her teachers raised doubts about whether she was even capable performing a petrification.

The petrification spell, curse, and potion were fairly advanced magic, but could be found in books in the dark arts collection only open to sixth and seventh year students. Kiserian spent the late afternoon searching library records for students who had checked out volumes containing the information. The potions storeroom contained all the ingredients necessary for the potion, but Horace Slughorn was too negligent about inventory to know if anything was missing. Aberforth Dumbledore had the necessary ingredients at the Hog's Head, and Nicolas Flamel probably had the necessary knowledge tucked away in his memory and wouldn't have even needed to consult a book.

Although Myrtle was not popular no one had a motive to wish her dead. Any sixth or seventh year student had access to the information which could explain her death, along with every faculty member and a number of people in the village. The brighter fourth and fifth year students might have the necessary knowledge for one of the methods of petrification, and without a way to narrow the window in regard to time of death everyone in a twenty mile radius of the school had the opportunity.

"Could a muggle have made a petrification potion?" Kiserian asked the older auror.

"Eh?"

"Could a muggle have brewed the potion? There are some potions muggles can brew if they follow directions. Some potions can only be brewed by a witch or wizard. Did the lab say if the potion could be brewed by a wizard?"

"Didn't say… You really want to put the three muggles out at the school on the suspect list?"

"Why not. We're a little short of six hundred possible suspects. I'm not going to put them on the list of more probable. I'm perfectly satisfied with the ninety-three we've got there already."

Tom Riddle believed himself safe. He was too smart to fall into any trap the aurors might raise. Bear and Ferret, the only two who might know something of his actions, were fiercely loyal and had been with each other so they had been ruled out as suspects. But the aurors seemed determined to continue the investigation. At some point he might slip, or Bear or Ferret might slip, or the aurors might check the non-working faucet and realize it had been disabled so that a door could be built. Tom wanted the aurors gone, and as quickly as possible, but had no idea about how to be rid of them.

Very little dueling was managed at dueling club that night. The topic on everyone's mind was who could have killed Myrtle. Students were beginning to look at one another with suspicion. Tom tried to keep them focused, "I am quite certain none of you killed Myrtle. You are wizards and witches of honor. We are engaged in upholding the finest traditions of our people and school. We should accept each other as–"

"Who do you think killed her? someone shouted.

"I've no idea. I refuse to engage in idle speculation. I've told you, I have complete faith none of you killed her. I will not name anyone outside this meeting as a potential suspect unless I have some sort of proof, and I see none."

Even if Tom refused to speculate it didn't stop anyone else. Olive Hornby seemed the odds on favorite. With Myrtle doing herself in running a close second. "Think of it," one of those making the argument said, "no one liked her. Swallow a potion and kill yourself. Bloody well mess up the life of everyone who ever said 'Boo' to you."

"How about that big wizard over in Gryffindor?" someone asked. "I've been waiting for him to kill someone since he got here."

"Rube wouldn't hurt a fly," Basil insisted. "Besides, he was at the dance and helping walk the muggles home when Myrtle was killed."

"How do you know when she was killed?"

"It had to be before the end of the dance, or she'd have gone back to her house," Basil argued.

"How come he leaves the house at night?" another Gryffindor asked Basil.

"He's probably studying."

"It's usually after the library is closed."

"I don't know. Maybe he likes to walk and think. He's been doing it since classes started. He still takes walks. He couldn't have killed Myrtle."

"He could be the vandal."

"I was with him when we first learned about it. He was as surprised as I was."

Tom listened to the exchange with great interest. He felt certain there was some way to turn the information to his advantage.

The aurors spent days three, four, and the morning of the fifth questioning every student who had been at the dance, and asking professors again if anything had occurred to them since the first interview.

Tension levels at the school were ratcheting higher with each day without a resolution. Someone at the school was a killer, no one knew who, no one knew why Myrtle was the victim and everyone wondered if the killer would strike again and who the next victim might be.

Mrs. Filch and Argus were questioned on the afternoon of the fifth day. Argus's condition ruled him out as a suspect, which also made Ogg useless as a potential suspect. He had been questioned on the very first day about whether he had seen any strangers around the school. Like the professors the second round of questions dealt with whether he remembered anything on more reflection that he might have missed in the chaos of the first day.

That evening they took Nicolas Flamel to the cellar of the Hog's Head with them as they questioned Aberforth. Both men claimed to know a potion for petrification that was not included on their initial forensic report. Malcolm swore a blue streak while Kiserian asked the men to write out directions for the potion they were thinking of separately so it could be sent to the CMI lab for testing and inclusion in their vademecum of death.

Malcolm spoke with Headmaster Dippet the next morning. "You've got to do something," the Head complained. "You have to find the killer!"

"We're doing our best, but I don't think it can be done."

"Parents and the Board of Governors are demanding answers!"

"So are our bosses. Everyone can demand all they want, but it won't help get things done any faster."

"Parents don't feel their children are safe."

"Then send them home."

"What?"

"If you're worried about their safety – send them home. Close the school for the rest of the school year. I don't know if the murderer left a scrap of evidence anywhere. But I know damn well that hundreds of students trampling around every day will make it impossible to find."

"But… Don't you need to question people?"

"We've questioned everyone. And after we question them the good little witches and wizards go back to their houses and tell their friends exactly what they said so the murderer can get his or her own story straight before talking with us. I don't like making this suggestion, but close the school now. Send the students home. We'll get a team to comb every inch of the school. If that produces nothing we can go to the homes of the students and question them without them being prepped by their fellow house members."

"You can't close the school!"

"Make up your mind. You want the killer captured, but there is no way to run a proper crime scene here. We have the bathroom closed off - but we haven't even had time to search that the way we should have. We're short-handed because of the war. There are too many suspects. You should have sent everyone home the day the body was found so we could have examined the whole building."

"I won't close the school."

"Then don't make demands. We're doing the best we can; we've got six hundred suspects and a crime scene that's been compromised. My report to the ministry is that your handling of the situation was a contributing factor if we can't discover the identity of the killer."

"That's outrageous!"

"And so are the conditions Kiserian and I are trying to put up with here. Close the school. If the killer planned the girl's death he or she won't be wanting to kill anyone else – but if we get close to finding the killer it increases the chances someone else dies. On the other hand, if some student is playing dark wizard and wants to start a collection of corpses you are giving the lunatic a nice collection of potential victims here. Close the school for the year. Everyone comes back in the fall and if nothing happens you can pretend the killer was some seventh year who graduated and everyone feels happy again."

The headmaster was looking depressed when Tom saw him a few hours later. Riddle depended on Dippet to keep him informed of any developments in the investigation.

"What's wrong, Sir? Are the aurors not making progress?" This was certainly Tom's hope.

"They want to close the school."

"What?"

"Too dangerous for the students they say. Can't run a proper investigation they say. Haven't even had time to look at the bathroom properly they say. And I say what good will looking at the bathroom do? They want to close the school and blame me for their incompetence."

"They can't close the school, can they?"

"I don't know. There are a lot of parents concerned about their children. It could happen."

"What will happen to me? Can I stay here? This is more my home than the orphanage. Please, you can't send me back there."

"I'm afraid my hands are tied. If they convince the ministry and Governors to close the school you won't be able to stay."

Clearly the aurors did not want to go home empty handed. Tom did not like the reference to the bathroom, and the idea of closing the school filled him with dread. They wanted to find a murderer, and since Tom had no plans to offer himself up he needed to provide a better suspect.

Olive Hornby would make a wonderful killer. She could feel remorse over what she had done and kill herself in an act of contrition. It would be more convincing if she could be petrified also, but he couldn't use the bathroom and wasn't sure if the potions he had heard about could be traced or not. A potion would be better – no one would be looking for the Chamber if it was clear a potion had killed Myrtle. It would be easy enough to get Olive Hornby alone, wink at the little witch and she'd sneak away to meet him… But would probably tell all her friends she was going to see him, even if he told her to say nothing. And she might have a good alibi for where she was when Myrtle died. That would just make the aurors all the more anxious to close the school and find the murderer.

What had some Gryffindor said about Rubeus Hagrid taking late walks? Tom didn't know if Hagrid had any sort of dislike for Myrtle – although from what he knew Myrtle would be an easy witch to dislike – but the advantage of Hagrid would be that a proper motive wasn't needed. A number of students remained firmly convinced the young wizard was a danger. It should be easy enough to frame him. But Tom should check out the late walks Rubeus took. They might make it easier for Tom to invent a story with Hagrid as the killer, or the walks might have been to meet someone who could provide an alibi. Tom scowled, most likely the big Gryffindor was meeting some muggle friend.

Tom loitered in the hallway near Gryffindor that night, hoping Hagrid had not changed his routine. Near ten-thirty the portrait slid back and Tom began walking down the corridor as Hagrid stepped into the hall."

"Evening, Rubeus."

Hagrid froze, convinced the prefect would tell him to go back into his house. "Hello."

Riddle smiled at him, the first time Hagrid could remember Tom Riddle smiling at him. "Need to stretch those long legs of yours?"

"Uh, yes."

"Well, be careful. There's a vandal and a killer out there. Tell me or the aurors if you see anything, right?"

"Sure will," Hagrid agreed. Tom walked past and Hagrid waited to make certain he was really gone. Once Basil had tried to follow him, and another Gryffindor friend had attempted to follow him another time. He had no reason to suspect Tom would follow him, but believed in being cautious. Feeling safe he left for the dungeon.

Tom returned a minute later and threw a pinch of trace powder into the air. He didn't think an auror could have done it better as it showed the direction Hagrid had taken. Unless several students walked through an area and disturbed the air patterns he should be able to follow without fear of detection.

Ten minutes later Tom gulped and held his breath with amazement. He had no idea what the giant spider was - other than a noose around Hagrid's neck or a cell in Azkaban. It was perfect. He considered shouting right then to attract attention, but needed to get his story straight. He also wanted to find out what the monster was that Hagrid appeared to be talking with.

In the library the next day Tom found no references to giant spiders among the magical creatures of the Isles. Could Hagrid have invented some new _engorgio_ spell? That didn't seem likely, giants didn't have the brains to be wizards. It really didn't matter. The fact the spider was unique made it an even better killer. Tom suspected he could locate the spider's hiding place right then and kill it, but feared it would not accomplish his purpose. He couldn't prove any connection between Hagrid and the spider, and if he were in Hagrid's place he would simply deny knowing anything about the monster – so he assumed Hagrid would claim to know nothing of the beast if Tom killed it and brought the aurors to the carcass. The aurors might even think Tom was responsible. No, Tom would wait until tonight. He'd warn the other prefects to watch the halls. He'd had a vision, tonight the killer would be captured.

It didn't go as smoothly as Tom could wish. The spider hit him as Hagrid shouted at it to escape. Then Hagrid himself hit Tom's arm when he tried to fire off a curse. Still, another prefect saw the monster as it scrambled to find an escape route – although she was too startled to kill the creature.

Prefects and a couple professors searched the halls for the monster as Tom triumphantly led Hagrid to Professor Dippet.

A smug and happy headmaster greeted Malcolm and Kiserian when they arrived at Hogwarts in the morning. "You are no longer needed here. I have uncovered the killer."

"You have?"

"Well, a student uncovered the killer. He has been formally expelled, his wand broken, and he's been kept under guard for you. You can take him back to London for trial or whatever you do with young killers."

"And who is the killer?"

"His name is Rubeus Hagrid."

Malcolm turned to Kiserian, "Which one was he?"

"The big one, mixed-blood."

The older auror turned back to Dippet, "What makes you so sure he's the killer. How did he do it? Why did he do it?"

"You can ask him those questions yourself. I won't do all your job for you. He had some sort of monster. I didn't see it. The death could have been an accident, it might have gotten loose and killed her without–"

"You say monster. What kind of monster?"

"I… I don't know. It was a giant spider of some sort. A couple prefects saw it. He doesn't deny the fact. Called the thing Aragog."

"Where'd he get this monster? Make it himself?"

"Why are you questioning me? Ask him. He said he got it as an egg from some traveler. Perhaps he's lying and he did find the Chamber."

"We're asking you questions to see if the story he told you whenever your student identified him as the killer matches up with the story he tells us under _veritaserum_. Oh, we'll want to question the prefect who raised the alarm also."

"This is a great deal of needless fuss. I have the killer for you. Just take him back to London and be done with it."

"We have a job to do," Malcolm reminded him patiently. "I hope you have the killer, but we go by the book and we're not taking him to London or anywhere until we're convinced he's the guilty party."

Rubeus didn't argue; he seemed almost eager to take the _veritaserum_. They questioned him for a half hour. Hagrid began to shiver as serum started to wear off.

Malcolm turned to the black woman, "What do you think?"

"He's not the killer. You?"

"He's not showing any memory holes or false implants. He's not the vandal, and knows nothing about the Chamber. If his eight legged friend did anything it was completely without his knowledge. I think we need to talk with Professor Grubbly again."

Wilhimina was shocked to learn that Hagrid had been raising the acromantula. "It is a tropical creature. I don't know how he managed the incubation."

"He told the headmaster he got the egg from a traveler. Under_ veritaserum_ he said you gave it to him."

"I did… He was probably trying to protect me from accusations."

"Where did you get the egg?"

"It was given to me."

"Who gave it to you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Sounds like you're trying to protect someone."

"Can I claim it's a military secret?"

"No. We've got a dead girl. But we'll keep our mouths shut if you're serious."

"Flavius Plank is in the RAF," she turned to Kiserian, "do you remember him?"

"Handsome bloke? Gryffindor and way too full of himself?"

"That's Flavius. He's matured quite well. He knows I teach magical creatures and brought me the egg from Borneo. When I researched the creature I discovered they are very dangerous and asked Rubeus to destroy the egg for me… It may sound odd, but it was a gift and I didn't have the heart to do it myself."

"So, you researched this… What did you call it?"

"An acromantula. Yes."

"And you said they're dangerous, capable of killing a person?"

"A mature one, certainly. I doubt a young one would have sufficient venom."

"This venom, it can petrify a person?"

"No, not at all."

"And you are certain of that fact?"

Professor Grubbly hesitated, "I am certain the literature described a normal sort of spider venom. It breaks down the tissues of its victim, and then the acromantula sucks out the juices. I have not studied the creatures myself but am trusting that those who wrote the articles knew what they were talking about."

Tom hoped they didn't use _veritaserum_ on him, but he was not regarded as a suspect. He had heard someone say Hagrid took late walks and found the behavior suspicious. When he had followed the Gryffindor and seen him with the giant spider he had made the assumption that the spider was connected to the death of Myrtle and sounded an alarm.

"The headmaster said perhaps Rubeus had opened the Chamber. He said several things he attributed to you. Did you put the idea of the Chamber into his head?"

"I really don't remember. I was very excited. I made guesses. I said things to Headmaster Dippet. He said things to me. We were both delighted that the nightmare was over. Why?"

"Just thinking the two of you were rejoicing too soon. Rubeus is not the vandal, and knows nothing about the Chamber. There's no evidence his spider could have killed the girl – at least not the way she died. We're still looking for the killer."

"But the spider! It was–"

"It was dangerous. You did the school a favor finding it before it did harm anyone, but I'm sorry to tell you the investigation is still open."

_"Shit, shit, shit,"_ Tom thought as he left the interview. The aurors were not as easy to fool as the Headmaster. _ "Dippet wants the investigation closed as much as I do."_

The aurors spent the rest of the day researching the acromantula to see if Professor Grubbly had missed anything in her reading, talking with Gryffindor students about Hagrid, and trying to find any information on the spider and whether it had remained in the building. A report of a house elf finding a door open at three in morning suggested it had probably escaped.

They assumed the cold would have killed the tropical creature and searched the grounds in ever widening spirals until forced to end the search by darkness. While they didn't believe Rubeus had killed Myrtle the giant spider was still dangerous and was enough of an oddity that it might somehow enter into the mystery.

Cold and footsore they tramped back to the Hog's Head at the end of the day, not sure if the search for the spider had any connection with the vandal who claimed to have opened the Chamber or the death of the young witch – or if it were a blind alley distracting them from the larger job.

The next day they reported to Headmaster Dippet's office as soon as they arrived at Hogwarts. "We'd like to speak with the Riddle boy again."

"That will not be necessary."

"With all due respect, Headmaster, we decide what is necessary in our investigation."

"Your investigation is finished."

"No it's not. We don't have what we came here for."

"Your investigation is finished. Here are the orders from your superiors at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I am satisfied the matter ended with the discovery of the Hagrid boy's monster. The Board of Governors is satisfied the matter is finished, and the Board of Governors requested the Department find a better use of your time than disrupting classes here at Hogwarts."

"This is outrageous!" Malcolm shouted. He took a step towards Headmaster Dippet, who quickly took two steps back. Kiserian grabbed the sleeve of the older auror, who managed to get his anger under control.

"Please, just take the boy and go to London."

"We'll leave," the black woman told him, "you saw to that. But we're not taking Rubeus Hagrid with us. There is no evidence of any criminal activity on his part. And if you have an ounce of sense or integrity you'd know this isn't over. You can try and paper over a crime by framing someone because he's different, but the real killer is still in your school. I hope before you go to sleep every night you ask yourself, not only about what you've done to the Hagrid boy's life, but whether the killer you're ignoring is going to kill again – because any blood is on your hands."

Dippet drew himself up, "I will not have my sense or integrity questioned in my own office. You will leave now."

The aurors took the train back to London. Most of the trip was spent in brooding silence. Malcolm Bones broke one of the long stretches of silence with the observation, "Back there, in the Head's office, that's the first time I've seen you angry. The most eloquent for sure."

"Don't think I've been that angry with a wizard before in my life, even more than a murderer I caught. Killed his wife 'cause he was upset about dinner being late. Better excuse than Dippet had for what he did to the Hagrid boy."

"He wanted things to get back to normal. You can see that."

"Would he have been so quick to judge if the boy wasn't different? Some think you can write people off for the color of their skin, or their religion, in this case who his mother was. Found guilty not for what he'd done, but accused and convicted from prejudice."

She spoke again as they neared London, "Another thing galls me, this will probably be on our records as a success. They'll mark it 'killer found' and say we did a good job."

"Not what my report is going to say."

"You're going to tell them the truth in your report? You got guts."

"I was retired. What can they do – sack me? Can't tell them the real truth, I don't know the truth about what happened. But I can tell them the guilty party wasn't found and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement caved into pressure when he should have had the balls to stand up for the truth."

She stuck out her right hand, "Been good working with you. Thought you were a worn-out old fossil… I guess I'm guilty of judging too, only looked at age. You're all right. If they don't send you back to your mystery novels I'd like to work with you again – if you'd have me as a partner."

He chuckled, "Let's see what they do to me after I say the department is headed by a gutless coward. Being retired gives me a lot of freedom I didn't have when I needed the pay envelope."

While Headmaster Dippet had ended the aurors' investigation he could not end all the controversy. Dissent continued among the faculty. Albus Dumbledore, Professor Grubbly in tow, invaded the Headmaster's office. "This is an outrage. How could you dismiss Rubeus Hagrid?"

"I consider him guilty of killing a student, even if the aurors didn't have the sense to see that. At the very least he kept a monster which killed a student."

"The aurors had the sense to check the facts – something you failed to do."

"He was harboring a monster at the school."

Professor Grubbly spoke up, "A monster which could not have possibly killed the girl."

"And what do you know of the creature?"

"I gave it to him."

"You gave him the monster?"

"Well, I gave him the egg for the acromantula. I asked him to destroy it."

"He told me some traveler gave it to him. He lied to me."

"He didn't want me to get in any trouble."

"And you asked him to destroy the creature? Why?"

"I read about the creatures and knew the acromantula was dangerous."

"You told him that? You told him it was a dangerous creature, asked him to destroy it, and yet he disobeyed and kept a dangerous creature at the school where it could kill a student. I find that entirely adequate grounds for dismissal from Hogwarts."

"The spider did not kill the girl," Dumbledore insisted. "It was young and probably didn't have enough venom to kill anyone. And even if it had enough venom the beast's poison does not petrify. The girl was killed by someone or something else."

"Have either of you studied the acro-thing?"

"No," Professor Grubbly admitted, "but I read–"

"I am not interested in what you have read. I am interested in what you know. I have a dead student, her outraged parents, aurors who find nothing, and a Board of Governors who wants answers. I also have a student who disobeyed orders to destroy a monster and instead tried to keep it as a pet. He lied to me about how he came into possession of the creature. Regardless of what you've read I think his monster killed that poor girl and I want him gone from Hogwarts."

"And where can he go?" Albus asked. "His father is dead."

"I neither know, nor care, where he goes. He is no longer my concern."

Both professors were angry as they left the Headmaster's office. "What can we do for Rubeus?" Wilhimina asked. "I feel like this is my fault."

"It's not your fault. He should have destroyed the egg the way he was told."

"He should have… I told him it was a monster; that monsters needed to be destroyed… The way people call him a monster, I should have–"

"The past can't be changed. We need to find a place for him."

"Do you think there's any chance he can stay with the Planks?"

"I'll ask. I doubt it. Augustus was clear last summer that he didn't feel like he had a place for the boy."

The two took Rubeus to the Hog's Head. Professor Grubbly looked back and forth at the two men, so obviously related by blood and yet unable to relate to each other.

"–and I promise to pay for this room until a proper place is found for him," Albus finished.

"You're certain he's innocent? I'll lose business every night he's here, there's some that believe he's a killer."

"He's innocent," Wilhimina assured him. "I think… I think they were in too much of a hurry to blame someone and the boy was simply too easy a target. Please, he has been treated so unfairly. Don't make it worse."

Aberforth hesitated. Letting Hagrid stay, even if it were no more than a night or two – and he feared it would be much longer before the professors could find a place for him – would be controversial around the village and cost him business. But he could not abide injustice. "He can stay. This isn't permanent, and I hope you find a real situation for him soon, but he can stay until you find a place for him."

"I'll find a place," Professor Dumbledore promised. "Thanks, Abe."

Aberforth said nothing, but nodded slightly toward his brother to indicate he had heard the promise.

Finding a place for Hagrid was not easy. Albus knew it would be the case, but didn't realize quite how hard it would be. About half the village considered him a murderer and wouldn't talk to the professor. Evacuees had filled most of the available rooms. Augustus Plank was willing to believe the boy's innocence, but had no room. Mrs. Higgs was utterly convinced the boy was innocent, but felt having him stay with her and three young girls would ruin the reputations of her evacuees. There was one place Albus felt Hagrid might do well, but knew the Headmaster would be infuriated at the idea. Upon reflection, however, infuriating the Headmaster seemed appropriate. The boy would be near friends, might be able to pick up some magic, and was near if the real killer were discovered and reinstatement were offered. It would also be a constant reminder to the Headmaster of his rush to judgment.

"And you're certain the boy is innocent?" Ogg demanded. "I hear the talk. They say blood will tell. I was so disappointed when–"

"The boy is innocent," Albus assured him as Professor Grubbly nodded her head in agreement. "He was framed, it was too easy to do because of those you hear spouting their 'blood' nonsense. He's a good lad, he needs a home."

Ogg looked thoughtful, "Did you know Tullius used to stop by and talk with me?"

"No, I didn't," Wilhimina told him. Albus shook his head no.

"Wanted to raise his boy right. Wanted to know anything I could tell him. Right grateful he was… You know how many wizards have ever listened to me, gave a damn what old Ogg thought?" The huge man held up a hand, "I could count 'em on the fingers of this hand."

"I'm sorry," Albus murmered.

"I wanted that boy to do well. He was going to show 'em. He was going to show 'em all. Then he… He really didn't do the killing?"

"No. They wouldn't listen to him when he told them the truth."

"I owe Tullius. He can stay with me. The grounds are big, the rheumatism is starting to slow me down. I think he'll–"

"I'm told Abe makes a good salve for rheumatism, can I get some for you?"

"Well, that's good to know when it flares up, but I'm just anticipating the rheumatism one of these years, and now it's just a bit of an excuse." He winked at Professor Grubbly. "Dippet's not going to be happy."

"And I don't care," Albus assured him. "I'll handle him. Thank you."

"No!" Armando Dippet thundered. "He can't stay on the grounds. I want him gone."

"You drove him from the school over my objections," Albus answered. "I don't know what strings you pulled, but I have friends in high places also. I am ashamed of how silent I have remained, but I don't want a scandal any more than you do. However, let me be clear, if you refuse this I will send letters to everyone I know with as many details as I know. I spoke with the aurors before they left. I know what their report will be. I will tell the truth even if you won't, and you sending the son of a man who gave his life for the service of his country into the winter on charges you know to be false… All I can say is that any scandal which comes down on your head is entirely deserved." Albus turned on his heel and left without being dismissed or waiting for any word from the Headmaster. He didn't think the Headmaster would be willing to say 'yes' to Hagrid staying with Ogg, but he knew the man had sufficient fear over the prospect of a scandal that he could not say no.

In Europe the fighting continued between the Germans and Russians as Stalin begged the allies to open up another European front as quickly as possible. In North Africa the allies consolidated their position and prepared for the invasion of Italy. It would not bring the Russians the relief they needed but Churchill still saw no reason for British troops to die to save Russian lives.

Allied personnel saw more action in the Pacific theater. In January ANZAC and US forces secured New Guinea, holding the Japanese forces away from Australia.

The monthly dances at Hogwarts were cancelled in January and February. Tom Riddle did not want the aurors to return and the painted warnings ceased. In the village of Hogsmeade the guilt or innocence of Hagrid was so controversial that no one dared voice his or her opinion for fear of starting a fight. Even Charlie Hexam and Frederick Wren at the Hog's Head learned to keep their mouths shut on the subject, although they were unable to apply the lesson to any other topic.

The winter ball was held late, and didn't appease the students demand for a dance. Headmaster Dippet was half afraid to ask the Prince's Men to perform – for fear it might cause problems, but also knew if he didn't hold the dance Albus Dumbledore would throw it up to his face as proof he believed the mixed-blood was innocent.

Zinc Savage wanted more money for the Prince's Men, along with more security for the next dance.

Japan launched another attack in the direction of Australia, but in the Battle of the Bismarck Sea twenty-one of the Japanese transports were sunk.

In Europe signs were beginning to develop that Germany was not invincible. Hitler ordered an acceleration of the Final Solution for Europe's Jews, including the liquidation of the Warsaw Ghetto.

At Hogwarts the school year slowly returned to normal. Tension remained. The 'official' version was that the vandal and the threats of the Chamber had been unrelated to the death of Myrtle, who had died in some sort of freak accident. Everyone wanted to believe it. No one really believed it. And it failed to explain Hagrid's expulsion.

Gryffindor was well ahead on goals in the first game of the spring term quidditch match, when Hufflepuff's Guinevere Thomas caught the snitch letting her team win. She didn't seem to be an especially good seeker, but she had the devil's own luck. Her luck ran out before the next game, a match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff when a curse from Tom Riddle feigned the symptoms of an attack of food poisoning. The final game of the school year saw Gryffindor, now playing as a team and angry about the loss to Hufflepuff, crush Ravenclaw. Neither team had been in serious contention for the quidditch cup and it remained with Slytherin.

At the final banquet Tom easily took the prize as top fifth year student, but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw took most of the academic honors for other years, with Ravenclaw eking out recognition as the top House of academics that year.

Headmasters on occasion gave awards for extraordinary achievements. Before announcing that Ravenclaw was the top house at the school Armando Dippet presented Tom Riddle with a plaque recognizing him for special services to the school. The speech sounded slightly odd, since there was no reference to what special service merited the presentation. Dippet knew the award itself would annoy Professor Dumbledore, but could claim the award was purely for academic excellence if the professor challenged him on it.

* * *

Since Tom Riddle is a liar it one may safely ignore the tale he spins for Harry in The Chamber of Secrets, especially since it makes no sense. Further, since everyone in every book of the series follows the fine tradition of any person who has any useful information on a subject refusing to tell the truth to anyone who needs to hear it (especially if the person with the necessary information is Dumbledore and the person needing the information is Harry) I'm writing my own version. A student is killed at the most prestigious school of wizardry in Britain and the balmy headmaster is allowed to pursue the matter by himself and act as policeman, judge and jury assigning the punishment himself (which includes letting the guilty party stay on the grounds) with no input from the department which investigates criminal activity among wizards? The TriWizard Tournament routinely killed the school's best student every five years, dueling club, hormonally charged teens with death spells, quidditch with heavy iron balls being smashed into players a hundred feet in the air – and we're supposed to believe they'd close a thousand year old respected school for one death? I would assume there have been a fair number of murders over the years (most of which would make good novels) as well as the many deaths from sickness, accidents, and goblin wars. Close it early one year, maybe. Closed forever? That makes no sense.


	14. The Tide Turns in Europe

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes a number of characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some principal characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack pointed out three canon issues in the last chapter. I've changed the name of one auror at her suggestion. Rowling ignored folklore on the second issue, and I stuck with it – however I provided two patches in the chapter to explain the difference to anyone favoring Rowling's version. On the third canon issue, curfew times, I'll claim rules change over the years – curfew hours in 1943 were different from those in 1993.

**The Tide Turns in Europe**

It would have been impossible for Rubeus Hagrid to not feel bitter and depressed. The stigma of being considered a killer hurt the worst. But his problems showed him who his true friends were. Basil and several of his fellow students, mostly from Gryffindor, came to see him during the school year and a few professors would stop by the cottage for conversation – which Ogg assured him was for Hagrid's benefit – they never stopped by to speak with him. Professor Dumbledore loaned him books and encouraged him to continue reading on his own. As the weather improved Ogg demanded Hagrid learn the grounds with him, and Rubeus found the older man more knowledgeable about the forest and its creatures than he had imagined. It was not the same as being in the classroom with Professor Grubbly, but it was an education via experience. Early in the summer Hagrid found himself able to tell Holly things that Holly, who had virtually grown up in the forest, had not known.

During the summer Alice Hart managed to take her husband for a two week visit to see her sister in the south. He didn't care much for his sister-in-law and had avoided any long visits since marrying Alice. But she insisted that the Dicks be given the chance to demonstrate their responsibility.

Blackie, the oldest of the Dicks, expected to be drafted in a year. He didn't like working on the farm, and he didn't mind the idea of fighting. Taking orders, however, still troubled him. Alice, and even Pericles to some extent, recognized that fact and tried to ask him to please do this chore or that chore, as if he had a real choice. He felt that he had no real choices about doing chores, but appreciated being asked rather than ordered to do something. He strongly suspected the army would make no efforts to accommodate his feelings.

In late June and early July the German army began to fall back from positions around Moscow. The Russians had taken a terrible beating, but the Germans had not been able to conquer them and now the Germans were nearing the end of their ability to maintain the pressure. Stalin still wanted his allies to open a real European offensive to take pressure off his people.

Stalin's allies didn't open up an offensive on the European mainland as he wanted, but on July 7 they landed on Sicily. In theory the Italians were responsible for the defense of the island, but the Germans had come to regard the Italian army as incompetent and feared the worst. Some of the Italian defenders actually welcomed the Allies.

The years of separation were hard on both parents and the evacuees. Even though bombers continued nighttime raids the worst of the Blitz was over. Some of the evacuees went home over the summer for visits, and stayed. The returned evacuees were a new burden on the aurors' department; two witches were assigned regular visits to the homes of muggles who had been in Hogsmeade. The older children realized the importance of secrecy and presented no problem – although the witches assumed they were on long-term assignment and might need to keep checking for years – but three of the younger children who returned home, and their families, required memory alteration. In the accepted version of the story the village where they had stayed in the north was quaint and backward. While their host families had treated them decently it had all been very dull and the children were much happier now that they were back with their families.

The Flint brothers made a quick visit home. Daniel credited his restored leg to fresh air and exercise, and suggested that perhaps it hadn't been as bad as the doctors had thought. Having not seen their son for two years his parents accepted the story, although his mother hugged him and called it a miracle. Elijah, now much taller than when he evacuated and apparently with an addiction to gaudy colors, seemed more of a surprise than Daniel's leg.

"Not any used clothing shops in the village," Daniel explained. "These were things that had been in storage for years. Mrs. Dumbledore took them in for Elijah."

"Looks like a traveling theatrical troupe went bankrupt or something," his father joked. "We'll see if we can buy some proper clothes for you while you're here," he told his younger son.

"I like these clothes," Elijha protested. "I don't want to dress muggle."

"Muggle? What's muggle?" his mother asked.

Elijah knew he shouldn't have said that.

"It's a slang word they use in Hogsmeade," Daniel explained. "It means dull and uninteresting."

Elijah shot his older brother a look of thanks. "I'm sorry. I should speak proper English and not use slang. But I do like these clothes, and Mrs. Dumbledore worked hard to take things in for me. I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"I suppose it's all right," his father agreed reluctantly. "You already wear them up there and have survived the teasing you probably get. I think when the war's over you'll be ready to dress muddle again."

His sons did not correct him, although his wife felt certain the word Elijah used had been muggle.

Victoria Leffington surprised her father even more than Elijah had surprised his parents. Their daughter had been a girl when she evacuated from London, now she was a lovely young woman. Victoria visited the storage areas at the Leffington factory to select the fabrics remaining from pram manufacturing days that she wanted for clothing, and visited the seamstress to be fitted properly and tell the woman about her tastes. Victoria and her mother spent most of the visit to London talking about what they wanted to do after the war was over and visiting shops for whatever they might find. Victoria had suspected that her parents weren't being honest with her, but clothing was indeed rationed and the styles limited with more of an eye to function than beauty, even in what were normally the smartest shops. And Victoria, of course, was too busy talking about herself and her opinions to say anything about the true nature of Hogsmeade.

Albert did not make it back to London during the summer. His father took a week of vacation in the village where his wife and daughter had been evacuated. Albert was able to be with them, although making the connections between trains starting in Little Easley had been such a pain he wished he had taken the express to London and made connections from there.

It was the first time the family had been together in two years for Sabbath. When Albert had last seen his sister she was a baby. Now she was an energetic toddler who couldn't stop talking. It took the little girl two days to get over her fear of the two strange men who spend so much time with her mother, but by the third day she warmed to her father and brother and they indulged her whims and played any games she demanded.

Tom Riddle got in touch with family in Little Hangleton over the summer as well. It was unpleasant, rewarding, enlightening, and a form of closure all at once. It was unpleasant to see his father, and his grandparents. They had never recognized his existence. It had been infinitely rewarding that his existence was the last thing in their minds before they died very painful deaths. The Cruciatus Curse was considered a difficult curse in part because it there was little opportunity to practice it, but it had worked perfectly for Tom. His paternal grandmother in particular had been in agony before the Avada Kedavera ended her life. The killing curse was difficult also, but had worked perfectly. Grandfather Gaunt and uncle Morfin… Tom sighed, it was something of a pity, really. But the death of the Riddles would certainly be investigated, and with the Gaunts having such a legitimate reason to hate the Riddles what reason could there be to investigate any further? Tom had heard a rumor that aurors could sometimes detect the use of memory charms while questioning a subject until _vertiaserum_. Given the confused state of his dear uncle's mind and the obvious motive he doubted _veritaserum_ would even used, but felt confident his handiwork would be undetected.

It had been enlightening to discover that multiple horcruxes could be produced and to have a relic of the founders to transform. And closure indeed; he need never worry about family again. He wondered briefly about his mother, how she could have had such a fascination with a muggle? What would life had been like for him if she had lived? He was glad he had managed very painful deaths for the Riddles. Killing them had provided some of thrill he desired, but their deaths also provided a feeling of satisfaction he had only experienced once before in his life, when he had discovered the Chamber.

With Italy in a state of collapse the Grand Council of Fascism stripped Mussolini of power in late July. Not believing such a thing was truly possible he showed up at his office the next day, and was arrested. While moving the former il Duce from one prison to another to keep his German friends unaware of his location the new Italian Prime Minister, Marshall Pietro Badoglio, announced that Italy would maintain their commitments to their allies, the Germans, in an effort to keep German troops in Italy from attacking Italian targets. At the same time he dissolved the Italian fascist party and opened secret talks with the Allies to take Italy out of the war.

In his Whitehall war office Churchill shared a cigar with Servius Fudge at the end of a report from the wizard. The war was far from over, and many more men would die in battle, but it no longer felt like Britain might lose. Victory seemed inevitable, although the timing remained uncertain. "Any vision of the future for me?"

"None from a source we trust. Many of us want to know the future as much as anyone else – and we're just as prone to project our fears or hopes and believe it is a vision."

"Well then, give me an unreliable vision or two – as long as they're cheery. I'm in the mood for a bit of hope tonight and not a bit of fear."

"The death of Hitler is popular right now. There must be twenty prophecies or more floating around, everyone swearing their version will happen. Would you prefer one with a bit of dark humor or one where he suffers a great deal of pain before death?"

"Dark humor, I think," Churchill answered and blew a smoke ring into the air. "There is enough real suffering in the world without inventing fiction on it – even for Hitler. Have any with a bit of irony, poetic justice?"

"Indeed, Sir," Servius told him and spun three of the more popular stories in circulation. Two of them brought laughs from Churchill. Fudge still didn't like the Prime Minister, but the two had developed a working relationship over the years. Churchill knew the wizards could keep secrets, could keep them amazingly well. He had also figured out that Servius Fudge did not care for him as human being or politician. But it put Fudge in the curious position of sounding board for some of the Prime Minister's ideas. Churchill knew the wizard would be brutally honest in any opinion he offered, and would not repeat the PM's ideas to anyone.

The weather for First Night was glorious. Rubeus had seemed depressed for the week leading up to the start of school. He had been playing backgammon with Ogg in the Hog's Head and drinking butter beer when one of the men of the village asked if he would help load trunks for the students. Ogg had noted the look of pain that crossed the boy's face and answered for him, "He'll be busy that day. Work to be done in the forest."

Hagrid whispered his thanks after the man left.

Hagrid actually was in the forest as the train arrived. Basil looked for the large boy and questioned Ogg when he couldn't find him. Rubeus was checking some of the most distant parts of the forest. Ogg had tried to send him as far from the school as possible. Rubeus had imagined it would be the worst day of the new school year for him… Not that he had a school year to look forward to, he would be attending classes at the church building with the evacuees and village children who did not attend Hogwarts. The depression turned to joy, however, when Rubeus discovered Aragog alive.

The spider told how surviving the winter had been difficult. The giant arachnid had been certain it would die on several occasions, but he had survived and thrived as the weather grew warmer. Hagrid promised to return and help construct a better shelter for the creature.

Adrianna and the rest of the Prince's Men gathered at the Hog's Head before going out to the school for First Night. Zinc, as usual, was full of ideas. This would be the band's greatest year ever. He would try to get them booked into the big dance hall in North Easley – which usually had live music and sometimes even booked bands who had released records.

Bertie seemed curiously subdued throughout Zinc's enthusiasm. "Why so glum, chum?" Bunny demanded.

"Probably last year at school, I–"

"You'll still play in the band, won't you?" Zinc wanted to know.

"Oh yes. I am finding this far more enjoyable than I might have imagined–"

Adrianna giggled, "The rest of us would just say we're having fun."

"I am hoping to enlist in the Royal Army Medical Corps and–"

"What, you don't want to kill Germans?" Zinc demanded and tried to imitate the sound of a machine gun as he mimed holding the weapon and mowing down enemy troops.

"I happen to believe there is as much value in preserving the lives of our troops as there is in killing their soldiers."

"Back to music," Adrianna demanded. "North Easley? Are you serious? How are you going to do it?"

Tom Riddle, despite all the boasts and swagger in front of his friends, had fears. He had fears the aurors would return and investigate the death of Myrtle, fears of his part in her death being discovered, fears of his work in the bathroom and the Chamber being discovered, and fears of the school being closed. He would leave the bathroom alone, unless he could find any sort of charm that might make those who attempted to use the one sink absent-minded about reporting it didn't work. As long as he did nothing enough people would believe Hagrid was guilty of the witch's death and none of his fears would come true. He would not mention any fears to his acolytes; they would be told he was planning ahead, waiting for the proper moment. Someday he would return to the school and open the Chamber… He wondered how he would manage the return. He smiled, in the best of all worlds he would get a job at the school someday. He was bright enough. If he could teach at Hogwarts he might not even need to open the Chamber again, he could instill a whole generation of new wizards with an appreciation of their superiority over muggles.

In his bedroom of Argus Filch kept a calendar. At the end of each day, before he went to bed, he took a pencil and crossed out the day's date with an X. He was counting down the days until he could enlist in the army and would never have to see Hogwarts again.

Hagrid's size kept him immune from teasing at the village school. Some were initially afraid of the boy, so much larger than those of his own age, but he soon made friends and was moved ahead in grade level because of his hard work.

After the excitement of the previous year everyone at Hogwarts wanted a peaceful year, and free visitation privileges to Hogsmeade restored. At least the students and shopkeepers in the village wanted a restoration of free access. Several of the professors were of the opinion that students spent more time in the library and writing papers when they were restricted to Hogwarts. Since the evacuees were still in the village they urged the Headmaster to maintain the current policy of limited access – and then only with parental permission.

Gryffindor played Hufflepuff in the first quidditch game of the fall term. The other three houses regarded Hufflepuff's seeker as the luckiest witch at the school, but she had been working hard all summer on her flying skills. Those watching the game were surprised by the moves Guinevere demonstrated in the game. The rest of the Hufflepuff team did not play badly, even if they didn't play on the level of their seeker. But the Gryffindor team had jelled nicely during the previous year and played a better game than the 'Puffs and were well ahead on goals when the Hufflepuff seeker caught the snitch – giving her house a narrow victory over the tower dwellers. As the students returned to the school no one accused Guinevere Thomas of simply being lucky. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were thinking of their own seekers and wondering if they were up to the challenge Guinevere would pose when they played her house.

The first dance of the school year came off without any problems, especially since Professor Poppins maintained tight security to insure there were no problems. Even most of the Slytherins attended, overlooking the presence of the muggles because A: the band was All the Prince's Men, and Adrianna Prince was a Slytherin, and B: the dance was the social event of the month. Basil Gray danced twice with Mary, asking about Hagrid and apologizing for the new rules that kept him from getting out and seeing his friend the way he wanted. Mary suspected the other wizards who asked her to dance and give their regards to Rubeus were following Basil's orders, but she still felt grateful to be asked.

At the end of the dance Adrianna grabbed Albert by the shirt collar and took him to the side of the stage for a hurried conversation before he returned to Hogsmeade. "Does Daniel ever talk about me?"

"Not really, he–"

"Does he have a girl friend in town?"

"No, I–"

"Tell him there's a movie I want to see in Easley next Friday night. Tell him he should rent a carriage and ask me to go. I can probably be at the Hog's Head at seven-thirty. Late feature. Long ride home in the dark."

"What's the movie?"

Adrianna smiled and patted him on the cheek, "It really doesn't matter, does it?"

"I don't think I–"

The witch's voice took a hard edge, "Just tell him."

Albert swallowed hard, "I will."

"Good, I'll stop by during the week and he can ask me. You heard me tell Zinc I wanted to go, so you thought it would be nice if Daniel asked me. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good."

Adrianna smiled as Al scurried away to join Mary and Judy for the walk back to the village. He had a characteristic she liked in muggles, he was afraid of her.

The government of Italy announced the country was leaving the war, and the Prime Minister and King fled Rome as civil authority broke down. Italians in the army who had embraced Fascism continued to fight with the Germans. Other Italians blamed the economic collapse of their nation on its ties to Hitler and saw the German army as an invading force. As chaos erupted the Germans became an occupying power in the north of Italy.

Adrianna flew to the Hog's Head for Charlie and His Orchestra. Albert coughed to remind Daniel he should ask Adrianna to the cinema. He asked. She accepted.

Daniel was a perfect gentleman, both during the ride and in the darkened theater - to Adrianna's disgust.

"What's his problem?" Adrianna asked Albert after their next jam session. "Should I introduce him to Bunny?"

"No… He's got strong ideas about what's proper… And…"

"I'm not proper?"

"You, uh… Last summer, there's this really pretty girl with the evacuees, Victoria, and–"

"You said he didn't have a girlfriend."

"He doesn't. It was like she was trying to vamp him or something and even though she's beautiful–"

"You said she was pretty. Then you just said she was beautiful."

"Last summer she was just pretty, now she's beautiful."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Am I pretty?"

Albert began to sweat, "We were talking about Daniel."

"We can talk more about Daniel later. Am I pretty?"

"I'd like to finish talking about Dan. See, he has these strong ideas about how girls should act and–"

"And I'm not good enough for him?"

"It's not good or bad. He just has this idea about how girls are supposed to act and–"

"You just said that. Anything else to say about Daniel?"

"Uh, no. Guess not."

"Then am I pretty?"

"You look very nice."

"I'm not pretty, am I?"

From the corner of his eye Albert noticed that the door to Hufflepuff stood open. He grabbed his clarinet case and ran like a rabbit.

Albert had an excuse prepared for Adrianna when she came by for Charlie and His Orchestra, but she didn't come to listen.

The second quidditch game of the term saw Slytherin, now the most seasoned team at Hogwarts, against the least experienced team. After their poor showing the year before Ravenclaw had replaced almost all of their team with new individuals. Ravenclaw had wanted better results and saw change as the best way to achieve better results. Had the problem with the team of the previous year been incompetence their plan might have worked. But the greatest obstacle to their lack of success the previous year had been inexperience and the luck of Guinevere. Replacing the entire team could not correct either of those problems and Ravenclaw lost by a wide margin.

On September 12 German Special Forces freed Mussolini from prison and took him to see Hitler. In poor health Mussolini wanted nothing more to do with the war, but the Germans needed him to justify their continued occupation of Italian territory and threatened the destruction of several Italians cities if he did not declare himself the legitimate leader of his nation.

Zinc got the Prince's Men bookings three weekends in a row, once for a Hogwarts dance and twice at Little Easley. Bertie didn't like the interruptions from study, but they were to play in North Easley in a few weeks and the Ravenclaw assured them the smaller gigs would have them feeling more confident for when they played the larger dance hall. The band jobs meant Albert had some money, but there were few places to spend it in Hogsmeade.

"How much did it cost to rent a carriage to go to Easley?" the Jewish boy asked Daniel.

"What's playing at the cinema?"

"I don't know… Just thought I might go over, you know, just to see."

"By yourself?" Daniel asked, with a tone of voice that said he didn't think Al was going by himself.

"Well, if I go over I'd… I probably shouldn't. My father would be upset if I took a shiksa to a movie, but–"

"Shiksa?"

"Non-Jew. My parents only–"

"So Elijah and I are shiksas?"

"No, you're a shegetz. A guy is a shegetz, a girl is a shiksa. My parents would only want me to go out with Jews, but I'm the only Jew in like a hundred miles."

"Is it wrong to friends with non-Jews? Elijah and I think we're your friends. Would that bother your parents?"

"No, there's nothing wrong with that. I think you're my friends… I almost feel like we're brothers sometimes."

Daniel laughed, "Sometimes I feel like that too. But there's no problem if you have friends who aren't Jewish?"

"No."

"So you can have friends who are girls, can't you. I mean; you just want to see a movie, right? You're not planning… I mean… None of my business…"

"Seriously, all I want is to see a movie… Sit in the theater by someone who smells like perfume instead of goat pens… But, you know… 'Holding hands at midnight, 'Neath a starry sky... Oh that's nice work if you can get it. And you can get it - if you try'."

"I should know that… Who did it?"

"Gershwin."

"So, who you going to ask?"

"I don't know… Who do you think I should ask?"

"You could ask Adrianna."

"She scares me. I don't want to ask a witch, I want an evacuee… Maybe a village girl who's not at Hogwarts."

They discussed the options. He decided to ask Judy if she would go, with Mary as Plan B if Judy turned him down."

"You should ask Judy, but suggest Rubeus and Mary come along with you."

"I was sort of hoping to have a girl alone in the carriage for the ride back."

"You're trying to keep your father happy. You're just out with friends, you won't do anything you couldn't tell your mother."

Albert sighed, "You're right. You're no fun. But you're right."

The final quidditch game of the term saw Gryffindor facing Slytherin. Slytherin was the most experienced team, but many of those placing bets on the outcome thought Gryffindor had more talent. Most students regarded Gryffindor's first game, the loss to Hufflepuff, as a demonstration of the old saying, "As fickle as a snitch," rather than a example of the two teams abilities. The Slytherin team knew they had been lucky to play Gryffindor early last year – before the tower dwellers had fully come together as a team.

Saturday dawned gray, with a cold drizzle and some fog. It was a miserable day to play quidditch. The seekers were at the greatest disadvantage. It was a long, long game which seemed even longer as drizzle and cold winds turned the team robes into frozen instruments of torture. The teams matched each other in scoring goals for most of the morning. Only one of the chasers trained by Minerva McGonagall remained on the Gryffindor team and in the mid-afternoon Slytherin began to pull ahead on goals. With overcast skies making things even darker play was about to be suspended for the day when the Gryffindor seeker caught the snitch, giving Gryffindor a twenty point margin of victory. No team enjoyed losing, but both teams had run up high scores over the course of the day, which would likely be significant when total points for the school year were added up to determine the winner.

The term ball was held in December, "Dress robes and dull," was the complaint most often heard. Making matters worse, in the opinion of the students, was a bout of premature dementia on the part of Headmaster Dippet who ordered things even more formal – only couples would be allowed to attend, and girls were issued dance cards. He thought that not allowing students to attend stag would curb some of the rowdy element and lend an air of elegance

Adrianna Prince waited for a wizard to invite her to attend the ball with him. She thought it would be terribly stuffy, and she would hate the music, but it was important to attend. Adrianna waited longer, and still no wizard asked. She did have a few requests for dances at the ball, and she filled their names on her dance card, but unless she had a partner she would not go to the ball. She confessed her problem to Guinevere Thomas, who told her of an American comic strip called L'il Abner' which had an annual story about something called Sadie Hawkins Day, and suggested that, rather than waiting for a wizard to ask her, Adrianna herself ask a wizard.

The idea of asking a wizard to escort her to the ball was embarrassing, but she wanted to go. She discovered the good looking ones had already asked witches to go with them, _"And they'd have turned me down any way."_ In conversations with wizards she asked the casual seeming question, "Who are you taking to the ball?" to sound out potential partners and began to think she might be the only witch not attending the ball. She decided to blame the lack of interest on the fact she normally performed at the Hogwarts dances, so none of the wizards really knew how well she could dance. Of course she could dance – if she could find a wizard to take her.

She even considered non-wizards. Daniel looked good enough to excite envy if he had her on the dance floor. But he was a muggle, didn't have a dress robe, and apparently had something against witches. It wasn't like she wanted to marry him or anything, but a few hugs and kisses from a handsome boy under the mistletoe was a pleasant thought. She even gave brief consideration to asking Albert to be her date. He also suffered from being a muggle and not having a dress robe – but she knew he could follow orders and she would enjoy talking about music with him. Of course, the pressure from other Slytherins over just playing in the band with him was uncomfortable. Going to the ball with him would be a grave mistake.

"Me? Go to the ball with you?" Bunny asked in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"I want to go. I've even had some guys ask for dances, but it's couples only. You heard that."

"I heard that. I… Me?"

Adrianna shrugged, "Bertie and Zinc have already asked witches. I, uh, there were a couple wizards who asked, but they really seemed dull, and… Except for one, I'm sure he wanted us to sneak off and–"

The drummer interrupted, "No one asked you, did they?"

She was about to lie, then shook her head no. "I figured we could talk music, and I know you won't be trying to crawl in my robe with me. What do you say?"

Bunny smiled, "How could I say no? I am honored that a witch as charming as yourself would deign to ask me to escort you to the ball and I shall fight for your honor against–"

"Uh, don't fight too hard for my honor – at least if he's cute," Adrianna suggested.

"Well, I was never much of a fighter, more of a lover actually. Wink with your left eye if you want me to preserve your honor, wink with the right eye and I let you take him away from me."

Adrianna took some hard teasing before the dance for her plans to attend with Bunny, but she insisted it meant she could dance with anyone without her date getting jealous. And, to her surprise, Bunny danced a lot better than she had expected.

Mrs. Higgs did not approve of swing music or jazz, but Zinc talked her into allowing All the Prince's Men to play some contemporary holiday music at the fellowship time following the Christmas Eve service. He also managed to hand out information on the band to every wizard or witch visiting the village for the religious service who looked like they might be able to afford hiring a live band.

Argus Filch enlisted at the start of the New Year. He had never felt happier as he kissed his mother goodbye, caught the express, and headed for basic training.

Aragog had fattened during the fall, and spent much of the winter asleep in the shelter Hagrid had helped construct for him.

Life was peaceful in the village, and slowly adjusting to the students being there less. The only incident of note was a gate to a pigpen failing to stay closed and more than a dozen swine invading the village. Most of them had been captured at the end of the day, but one remained at large for four days, with little Shirley demanding larger children walk with her to the classroom and home for fear she would be attacked by the pig.

January twenty-second saw the Allies land at Anzio, near Rome. Mistakes in planning, and a failure to capitalize on German mistakes, bogged the invaders down and it would be months before they were able to advance.

Tom Riddle felt frustrations as even the majority of Slytherians seemed to enjoy muggle dances and music and didn't object strongly to the presence of muggle performers at the dances. At least no one from Slytherin asked either Mary or Judy to dance. If he hadn't been afraid of the return of the aurors he would have opened the Chamber again.

In February the deliberate bombing of German civilians was condemned on the floor of Parliament. Given the fact precision bombing was a thing of science fiction some civilian causalities were to be expected. While the Germans had engaged in terror bombings – the deliberate bombing of civilian populations – in other countries the Luftwaffe had only gone after targets of strategic value in London, Coventry, and other cities. Now that the ability of the German air force to stage massive strikes had been broken the RAF had been ordered to engage in terror bombings of German cities. The MP demanded to know how England could denounce Nazi actions against civilians in other countries as immoral when Britain employed the same tactics.

A letter from the War Department informed Mrs. Filch her son was in the hospital, recovering from wounds received. Argus would not have a chance to die facing German troops. During training another new recruit had panicked with a live grenade. One soldier had been killed, and Argus was among three others who were injured. He would probably make a full recovery eventually, but the rehabilitation process was expected to take months.

"Bad news from the school," Julian reported when he stopped in for a half pint late in winter term. "Professor Binns died last night."

"Look natural, or like that girl killed last year?"

"Far as anyone knows it appears natural. He was old."

"Died in harness," Aberforth mused. "Well, history was his life. School will need to find a new professor. Imagine they'll ask Nicolas to fill in until the end of the year."

"Well, they won't be needing a new professor until the fall."

"Eh?"

"He didn't pass on. The story is that students showed up for class and his ghost was there in the room, ready to lecture. They found his body in the staff room–"

"I guess it's a blessing he wants to finish out the term – give old Dippet time to do a proper search for a replacement."

Several witches and wizards sent owls to the Headmaster, asking to be considered for the position of history professor. Headmasters often consulted retiring teachers on the subject of possible replacements, and Professor Dippet asked the ghost of Professor Binns to come to his office for such a discussion.

Professor Binns proved stubborn, "I intend to continue teaching as long as I am on this plane."

"You're being quite unreasonable. That's probably the anchor that holds you here. You need to simply resign your position and pass over."

"I will not. I will not be one of those useless ghosts, moping about the hallways making nuisances of themselves. I–"

"You're no listening to me! Retire and you should pass over."

"I don't think so. For me teaching has always been heaven, so I've no need to go there. And if heaven would not be my destiny I'd much rather stay here."

"See here, you must consider the students. You know ghosts are pretty much useless in the acquisition of new knowledge. You won't be able to keep up with what's going on in history."

"And what's going on in history? I dare say the Siege of Hogwarts will not change. The Covenanters attack on Hogsmeade will not be any different in a hundred years from how it was a hundred years ago."

"Things worth knowing will happen. Things are always happening, can't bloody well stop them. As time goes on your knowledge will become more out of date and less valuable."

"On the contrary, as time goes on there will be fewer eyewitnesses to the changes I've seen. My experience will allow me to bring a perspective to the classroom a living professor could never manage."

Professor Dippet sighed, "We will discuss this at your performance review."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Binns replied and vanished through the wall.

The headmaster made a mental note to himself, _"Need to ask the Governors to allow the headmaster more latitude in sacking professors."_

The Governors, unfortunately, proved somewhat intractable, "Look here, you're a reasonable man and we trust you, but what if the school ends up with some Head who wants to fire all the wizards on the staff and replace them with young blonde witches? Can't have that. You can suspend a professor for reasonable cause, but you need our approval to sack a professor – and we don't see being dead as just cause for getting rid of him."

Professor Dippet wasn't certain, but he suspected the fact ghosts could not draw a salary might have been a factor in the Governors' decision. Professor Binns requested that his salary be applied towards a memorial scholarship.

Little changed in the history classes. Students had found Professor Binns dry and tedious for decades. But the positive consequence of his death was to remind Professor Merrythought of her own mortality. She informed the Headmaster she would retire at the end of the current school year from her position as instructor for Defence against the Dark Arts.

In addition to the witches and wizards applying for Professor Merrythought's position two of the Governors, an auror, and two witches in the Ministry of Magic recommended Headmaster Dippet consider Malcolm Bones for the position, saying there was no one in the country with more experience in fighting the dark arts. Malcolm did not send a letter requesting consideration. He assumed, rightly, that the headmaster would not be willing to bring his name before the Governors.

The first quidditch match of the spring term saw Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw. The inexperienced Ravenclaws played on par with the relatively weak 'Puffs, but Guinevere was the deciding factor in the game, catching the snitch relatively quickly and giving her team a hundred and thirty point margin of victory. But while the margin of victory was fairly lop-sided the game had been over with relatively quickly and didn't add an especially large amount to the team totals.

The second quidditch game of the spring saw Hufflepuff facing Slytherin. Punters gave the edge to the 'Puffs if the game ended before noon, if the game lasted past twelve the odds were seen in Slytherin's favor. It appeared that Hufflepuff's suspected cheating in their seeker's illness the year before on the day their house played Slytherin – or at least they wanted to suggest that fact by a studied insult. Several of the wizards escorted the witch everywhere she went outside the house for a week prior to the game. On the Friday before the game, and Saturday at breakfast, Bunny served as food taster.

Hufflepuff's efforts to insure the health and safety of their seeker succeeded, but were not enough to assure a win. Slytherin had the better team, overall, and Ferret had been ignoring school work to train for the competition. The punters had been right in saying that if the game lasted past noon the odds favored Slytherin, but while those placing bets had guessed that if play lasted past noon Slytherin would win on goals were proven wrong on that portion of their reasoning. Slytherin was well ahead on goals when the luck of the snitch went in Ferret's favor slightly before one. His capture of the snitch gave Slytherin a large lead in total points, but not an insurmountable lead. Gryffindor could win if the last game lasted long and went to them.

In May over sixty thousand German soldiers surrendered at Sevastopol. Stalin told the Red Army they were not taking prisoners and the Germans were slaughtered. Germans no longer surrendered. As the Soviets regained lost territory the campaign against those who had welcomed the Germans as a relief from Stalin's tyranny began – some four hundred thousand Tartars were sent to gulags in Central Asia.

Everyone knew the Allies were preparing a landing in France. What was unknown to the vast majority was the exact date and planned location for the landing. The level of secrecy associated with Operation Overlord was incredible given the logistics involved. And despite the level of secrecy a security breach in Istanbul allowed a German spy to obtain a copy of the real plans.

_"Why in the Hell was there even a copy of the plans in Istanbul,"_ Churchill wondered as he read German documents decoded by Ultra. False plans had been carefully 'leaked' to the Germans. The Normandy landings were decoys, in the version the Germans were supposed to believe, with the real landing to take place at Calais after the Germans had committed themselves to the decoy landings. The false plans had been accepted by the German commanders and many of their troops were kept in reserve for the 'real' attack at Calais.

Unfortunately General Rommel accepted the true plans, and did his best to persuade the high command to treat them seriously. They argued he had been led astray by chaff – false information. As Churchill read the exchange of messages an unhappy Servius Fudge appeared in his office. "Bad news?" the PM asked.

"Is there any good news in war?" the wizard answered. "I expect you know the Germans have the real invasion plans."

Churchill waved the papers at the wizard, "Just reading the reports. All this work, and it could come to nothing. Do you have something on that?"

"Rommel will not persuade his commanders. They will keep significant forces from the fighting."

"That's good news."

"The witch who had the vision–"

"This the same one with the vision in Egypt?"

"Yes, Sir. We trust her. Even with the Germans keeping many of their men in reserve the death rate will be appalling. She was crying as she gave the vision. She saw the beachheads established, but her vision only extended to the day of the landing… I think she ended the vision herself because it frightened her."

"Damn it, man, does the invasion succeed?"

"Rommel will not convince the High Command, they will be holding troops back on the day of the landing. That's all I can say." There had been one other element in the vision, but it seemed so unimportant to the plans that the wizard decided not to mention the fact to the Prime Minister. It also sounded so peculiar, in fact, that Churchill would likely dismiss the vision as false. Even Servius had his doubts, despite his faith in the particular witch and her second sight. On one of the beaches she saw a piper, playing 'Hielan' Laddie' and 'The Road to the Isles' as men from his unit died around him. He suspected her vision had been a death omen of some sort.

Gryffindor gambled on an all-or-nothing approach to their final quidditch game of the year. Ravenclaw played hard, they desperately wanted a win to avoid being shut out. Gryffindor wanted to win the house cup and played hard. The difference in their strategies lay in the fact Gryffindor needed to score three hundred and seventy points to win the cup. Ravenclaw only needed more points than Gryffindor in order to win the game. While the Ravenclaw seeker began to search for the snitch at the second blast of the whistle the Gryffindor seeker lazily circled the field – waving to friends in the stands – at the signal to begin play.

Bear, sitting with the Slytherin team in the stands asked, "What in the Hell is he doing?"

"Trying to win the cup," Adrianna answered, then screamed, "Look for the snitch!" as the seeker flew by. He grinned and blew her a kiss.

"Trying for the cup?" Bear echoed.

"He's not going to start looking for the snitch until Gryffindor has two-hundred and twenty points," Ferret explained.

"But couldn't Ravenclaw beat them?"

"That's the risk they're willing to take," Tom answered.

After his initial laps around the field to greet the spectators the Gryffindor seeker adopted a strategy of annoying the Ravenclaw seeker in order to keep her from her job. He tried to provide interference within the bounds of the rules and ignored the jeers from the Slytherins and Ravenclaws in the crowd. His style of play also irritated the referee, who called him three times on fouls, and called the Ravenclaw seeker once when she punched him for his interference.

Around one-thirty Gryffindor had scored two hundred and ten points on goals, and their seeker began to look for the snitch. If the Ravenclaw seeker, now free from Gryffindor interference, captured the snitch the Gryffindor team would lose both the cup and the game. If the Gryffindor seeker could capture the snitch his house would take the cup.

It was the loudest ending to a quidditch game any student at the school could remember. Most of the students were on their feet. All of Slytherin and Ravenclaw shouted encouragement to the Ravenclaw seeker. A number of Hufflepuffs joined in jeering Gryffindor for what they saw as questionable sportsmanship. Gryffindor shouted encouragement to their seeker. The din lasted twenty minutes, and Gryffindor had two-hundred and forty points on goals when their seeker captured the snitch – securing both the victory in the game and the house cup.

The Slytherin team vented a great deal of anger towards the Gryffindor team as they returned to school, with an occasional acknowledgement of the cunning of the victory.

"A plan worthy of a Slytherin," Tom remarked. "We'd have done it in that situation. I'm just sorry it worked for them."

"Yes, but who thought of it?" Ferret asked, kicking a tuft of grass in frustration.

"Basil Gray is my guess."

"I'd like to pay him back," Bear muttered.

"Patience, Bear, patience," Tom chided. "I'm still hoping to win him over to our circle of friends. Cunning is a virtue to be admired."

Even with the Germans keeping many of their troops in reserve for a fake landing the troops going ashore on D-Day landed on the French coast which had seen years of German defense preparations. Despite the fact German resources were running low the fortifications of the beachheads remained strong.

Charles de Gaulle did his best to help the Nazis; in a radio broadcast on June 7 he mentioned that the Normandy invasion was the real invasion of France. That was supposed to have been kept secret. The longer the Germans believed that General Patton was going to bring the major force to land at Calais the better the chance the soldiers on the Normandy beaches had to survive. Fortunately the Germans had no regard for de Gaulle. They viewed him as a British-American puppet to justify their fight against Vichy France in the same way that Mussolini was now a German puppet to justify their occupation of Northern Italy.

The Royal Air Force sent a wire, via daily train to Hogsmeade, that Flavius Plank and his plane had failed to return from a mission. Wilhimina spent the night at the Plank farm with his family.

Three days later an owl arrived at his parent's home. The German anti-aircraft fire that crippled his plane had killed the bombardier, but the rest of the crew had parachuted to safety. Flavius had healed wounds and set a broken leg (as well as using a memory charm to conceal his unexpected medical abilities) and he and the surviving crew had hopes of making the trip to neutral Switzerland and safety.

The next word in regard to Flavius Plank came from the International Red Cross. His co-pilot had been killed trying to flee a German patrol, but the remainder had surrendered and were now in a German stalag. The IRC had a letter from Flavius to his mother, but the German censors had cut out so much of the content that only strips of paper remained. She still recognized his handwriting and she took it as a good sign.

Wilhimina didn't know the name of next source for information, but when she arrived at Hogwarts Mrs. Filch told her to go to the Great Hall. A sea eagle stood on the faculty table, a note on its leg addressed to Professor Grubbly in unfamiliar handwriting. The great bird cocked its head to one side as she unfastened the note, but made no effort to fly off. Thinking the bird required a reward she called for a student to request a fish and tore open the letter.

_Dear Willy,  
Can't tell you the name of the chap sending this or  
even his rank or position. He recognized my wand  
for what it was, and not the good luck piece I claimed.  
He took it, but promised to send off a real note from me  
saying that I'm safe. Don't know about other stalags,  
but we're treated decent here. Seems a bit odd, but  
I'm probably safer as a German prisoner than I was  
in the air with them shooting at me. If you weren't  
accepting my proposal because you were worried  
about being a widow before the war was over I'm  
probably safe for the duration. Can't tell you where  
I am, but he said his eagle would wait for a return  
note. Oh, and I owe him three chocolate bars. If  
you put them in a Red Cross package he'll be sure  
to confiscate them.  
I love you,  
Flav._

She quickly sent for a quill and parchment. Her note was much shorter.

_Flav,  
Don't do anything stupid. Stay safe. I love you.  
You may not invite that horrid Samuel Wells to  
the wedding. I will not have my maid-of-honor  
insulted on the happiest day of my life.  
Much, much love,  
Wilhimina_

As soon as the eagle spread its wings and left the school Professor Grubbly informed Headmaster Dippet that she would be unable to hold classes that morning in order to go the Plank farm and tell him family the news.

The Durmstrang wizard, too old for combat duty, was second in command of the prisoner of war camp holding Flavius Plank. Perhaps he was a bit of a romantic, or perhaps be saw wizard blood as a bond between himself and Flavius, or perhaps he liked the chocolate bars, but he allowed the British pilot other personal letters as long as anything of military value was omitted.

The Normandy landing marked the beginning of the end for Germany. There had been a couple days of rejoicing among the evacuees at the idea of reunion with their families in the near future. The euphoria had not lasted long. On June 13 something hit England which could not be immediately explained. Churchill even requested the wizards send someone to examine it to see if German wizards might be involved. It was the first of the Vergeltungswaffe 1 rockets. It was a weapon against which the British had no effective means of defense. The total damage all V-1 rockets caused was much less than that caused by a single major Allied bombing raid, but they generated a level of fear England had not experienced in years. Many of the remaining evacuees who had looked forward to returning home when they first heard of the Normandy landings prepared themselves for a longer stay at Hogsmeade.

The German Army, despite its reputation for efficiency, had a poor record in attempts on Hitler's life. In March 1943 a bomb on his plane had failed to detonate and a change in plans saved him from another. Allied bombers might have saved Hitler's life in November by accidentally destroying the site of a planned assassination the night before. Two other attempts to kill the Führer in early 1944 had also failed. When a general with better access to Hitler backed out of planting a bomb Colonel Claus Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg decided to accept the responsibility. Two initial dates to attempt an assassination did not work out, but on July 20 he managed to leave a briefcase, with a bomb inside it, in the Wolfsschanze command center. While the bomb exploded it failed to kill Hitler

* * *

Al Capp added Sadie Hawkins Day to the mythos of the L'il Abner comic strip in 1937. It became a frequent device in the strip, and within two years colleges throughout the US sponsored Sadie Hawkins Day dances where girls asked the boys. Prior to L'il Abner the idea was unusual.

The German Luftwaffe had targeted civilians in some countries, but did not do so while bombing England, Hitler himself gave orders to avoid civilian targets in England. In 1939 England said they would not bomb civilian targets if it appeared Germany was not targeting British civilians. In 1940 Britain amended this to allowing attacks on civilian industries which could be seen a helping the German military industrial complex. England claimed that its bombing of civilians in an early raid on Germany was an accident, but the Germans began the Blitz, the aggressive bombing of targets of military importance in British cities, after the British attack. Britain responded with a deliberate terror raid. Late in the war, when the worst of the Blitz was over, and thus Germany was unable to retaliate, the RAF began the saturation bombing of civilian targets. The US followed the policy also. The British government did not announce the policy when it went into effect for fear of a negative response from the British people. Nations had worked for centuries to promote the idea that only enemy troops and infrastructure represented legitimate military targets and civilians were to be spared as much as was possible. When the Nazis went after civilian populations in Eastern Europe they faced some resistance in the German army itself. Some members of Parliament were equally outraged when they discovered Churchill had authorized the same terror tactics they denounced when Hitler used them. The V-1, Buzz Bomb, was only used against England long after England had begun its policy of terror bombings of German civilians.

William 'Bill' Millin died in 2010. British army regulations forbid pipers to play in combat. His commanding officer, Lord Lovat, ordered him to play as his regiment went onto Sword Beach. When Millin pointed out the regulations Lovat said the regulations were English, and they were both Scots. As men in his unit died on the sand around him Millin stood and played. Germans who fired on the Allied troops as they landed were reported to have said they didn't shoot at Millin because they assumed he was insane.

England couldn't say it was allied with France against German aggression if it recognized the Vichy Government – which had made peace with Germany. De Gaulle had evacuated with the English troops and Britain and the US recognized him as the head of the Free French Forces. For centuries France had been the greatest power in Europe and could only be defeated by massive coalitions of other nations (or in the case of the Hundred Years War by French nobles who sided with the English because they feared a stronger king would weaken their positions – yes the long bow is the factor they mention in school, but the Burgundians and other French allies to the English were factors also). In de Gaulle's mind France still had that glory, and he resented the fact the Brits and Americans had saved his hide and spent the rest of his long political life working against them (my opinion). De Gaulle did indeed screw up in a radio broadcast and proclaim the Normandy invasion the real invasion. Assuming the Germans heard the broadcast – and they would have been monitoring such things – they may have regarded it as misinformation rather than simply ignoring him.


	15. But Doth Suffer a Sea Change

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from JK Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier lacks important characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack did a canon check on this chapter. Any departures are my own. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

**But Doth Suffer a Sea Change**

During the occupation of Paris the Germans planted explosives in the major buildings of the city. With the tide of war turning toward the Allies Hitler ordered the destruction of Paris, if Berlin was to be reduced to rubble then the French landmarks would be reduced to rubble as well. Whether from fear of prosecution after the war or because he had come to love the city the general in charge disobeyed the orders for the city's destruction.

The Dicks began to break up late in the summer of 1944 when Blackie went into the army. Among the six only Rabbit heard from parents with regularity, and Blackie had lost all contact his. He had largely lived on the streets prior to evacuation, and his parents had probably viewed his departure – if they were even aware of it – with relief. Alice Hart hugged him fiercely and wept over him before he left, the first tears ever shed for him. "Promise me you'll stay out of trouble," she begged.

Embarrassed by the attention in front the other five he patted her on the back, "I'll try."

"Good Lad," Pericles grunted, and clapped him on the shoulder before the young man boarded the train to take him to London.

Blackie did not do well in basic training, spending as much time in the guardhouse for insubordination as he did in drilling. He should not have been sent to the front, he should have been given more training, but the army needed to replace those killed or wounded in combat. Blackie would have been unwilling to admit he had found a father figure in Pericles Hart, and equally unwilling to admit he had a brother figure in the lieutenant commanding his platoon.

The young man from the Hart farm learned the importance of following orders the hard way. Basic training did not seem easy to Blackie, but it would have been the easy way compared with learning the importance of following orders in the field. Fortunately the young man survived the lesson. Some of those who had gone through basic while he cooled his heels in the guard house grumbled when Blackie made corporal and became a squad leader in near record time, but the lieutenant admired his scrappy can-do attitude, and the men in his squad soon recognized it had been a wise decision.

It was raining as students got off the train in Hogsmeade for another school year. The men loading trunks onto wagons rejoiced with the certainty that next year the village would be back to normal and house elves would handle the task.

Ogg hated rowing the boats across the lake in the rain, but would not pass the job on to Hagrid – at least not until all those who had gone to school with him had graduated. However, Hagrid felt able to remain in Hogsmeade himself and talked with Basil and his other Hogwarts friends before they headed to First Night ceremonies.

A number of the evacuees had left the village. Some of the older evacuees had gone off to serve their country, and others had simply returned home to their families. The third year students, when the evacuees had first arrived four years earlier, were now seventh year. The number of seventh year students was not down as dramatically as it had been the year the evacuees arrived.

While women could be conscripted into the British military few were. Women with children were exempt. The selective service considered that women with jobs as teachers, nurses, or anything related to the war effort were already serving their nation. Single women with secretarial skills, driving ability, or the desire and physical requirements to fly a plane were more likely to be called into the armed forces. Eileen Prince didn't know much about the war – didn't know much about anything outside of her spheres of interest – but had a sense she should serve her country. The draft board did not find her a good match for any of the usual ways in which women served and considered sending her home with a kind, "Don't call us, we'll call you," when she expressed an interest in chemistry. Chemical engineers were in short supply with the war, and while she had no apparent qualifications she was given an address and told to apply for a job.

Eileen was hired as a dog's body, to clean retorts and make coffee for the men, but after a few days she requested to be allowed to work on one of the projects. The supervisor was highly skeptical of her abilities, but the laboratory was short handed and he gave her a chance. Miss Prince followed directions exactly, handled the lab apparatus with extraordinary skill, and kept meticulous notes. While her social skills were lacking and her imagination limited in regard to issues outside the laboratory she quickly established herself as one of the top technicians – with project supervisors putting in requests be allowed bring her into their next team projects.

Tom Riddle and Ferret, now seventh years, had no interest in fighting in a muggle war. Bear had been drafted and was anxious to start killing muggles. The Slytherin quidditch team had lost key players and their chances were the main topic of conversation around Tom Riddle. Tom's influence had grown in the house and his word was essentially law for his fellow Slytherins. There were a few who did not follow the brilliant wizard, but they had the good sense to keep their mouths shut and not disagree with him in public.

With Bertie and Alistair both gone All the Prince's Men effectively ended. Al and Adrianna had a few jam sessions with Bunny in Hufflepuff which the students appreciated, and there were three wizards who sat in with them. While the newcomers probably had as much musical ability as the Ravenclaw trumpet player they lacked his ambition and drive, and none of them could bring the dry humor and focus that Bertie added to the mix.

Bertie was assigned to a medical unit. The perception exists in many armies that commanders will consistently find the least qualified man for a job – the best mechanic doing filing, the best cook assigned to the motor pool, and the biggest thief put in charge of supplies. While such things occasionally happen to maintain the stereotype the military often finds the best man for a job. The army recognized Alistair Savage could do more for the British Army with his mouth than a gun. He knew how to downplay the elements of a story he didn't want told, while putting greater weight on what he wanted to say. After determining he could write he was assigned as a liaison to the US Army's Stars and Stripes and freelancing to the wire services with stories designed to put the British Army's point of view before the Americans.

With the Prince's Men disbanded Hogwarts found other bands to play for the monthly dances in the fall quarter. The first group, an all-witch swing band, was good. The next bands were not on the same level as the all-witch group, and with the war appearing to near its end – and the end of the war signaling the end to the need for an extra morale boost – the monthly dances would disappear again during the spring term.

Hufflepuff faced Ravenclaw in the first game of the fall term. Ravenclaw had learned their lesson from the year before and was letting their team develop, but it was still widely viewed as the weakest team that year. Hufflepuff was held to be a relatively weak team, with the exception of Guinevere Thomas who many regarded as the best of the current seekers. Gryffindor was generally held to have the strongest team, with Slytherin's ability very much in question as the year began.

Ravenclaw saw the game with Hufflepuff as their best chance for a win after a year when they were beaten every game. The sky had a heavy overcast, making it hard for both seekers to find the snitch, but Ravenclaw viewed that as an advantage. The Raven chasers played a ferocious game, and while the 'Puff keeper had more experience the tower dwellers built a steady lead through the morning and early afternoon. It looked like Ravenclaw might be able to win on goals alone when Guinevere did a barrel roll, dove, and captured the snitch, giving Hufflepuff a narrow victory.

Gryffindor faced Slytherin in the second game of the fall term. It was a beautiful day for the game, but the game itself was ugly. Several of the Slytherin players felt they had been cheated out of the quidditch cup the year before and their resentment led them to more fouls in the first game than were usually charged on a team in all three games. The referee assigned penalties as fast as he could see them, but the sheer number of fouls and speed of the game kept them from all being seen and called. Even with many fouls being missed the penalties called crippled Slytherin's play and Gryffindor won with a comfortable margin.

Basil Gray sat on a bed in the infirmary, stubbornly refusing to tell the half dozen faculty members gathered in the room how he had lost two fingers on his right hand. He had informed them, "It was an accident," but provided no details.

"If you don't tell us voluntarily, you will be compelled to say what happened," Professor Dumbledore told him and Professor Slughorn filled a small crystal glass with _veritaserum_.

"It was an accident, that's all I'm saying," Basil responded sullenly.

"Veritaserum is not pleasant," Professor Poppins warned. "We will find out what happened, if you were engaged in dangerous spells we will find out. If you have been threatened we–"

"No one threatened me! I don't know why you think you need to know everything."

"If you are trying to shield someone we want to know who," Professor Poppins finished.

"Probably the big mixed-blood," Professor Slughorn muttered.

"Horace," Professor Dumbledore said firmly, "we are here to ascertain the truth, not make guesses. Is that a proper dose?"

The potions professor nodded.

"Will you take the veritaserum of your own accord?" the head of Gryffindor asked.

Basil shook his head no.

Professor Dumbledore sighed and pointed his wand at the young man. _"Imperio!"_

Professor Poppins looked closely into Basil's eyes, "He's under."

"Drink the potion," Dumbledore commanded.

As soon as the potion was consumed Dumbledore removed the imperious curse.

"What happened to your hand?"

Basil responded woodenly to the question, "It was an accident."

"How did it happen?"

"I was dueling."

"Dueling? Who were you dueling?"

"Marian Lestrage of Slytherin."

Horace Slughorn wanted to protest the accusation made against a student in his house, but he had prepared the _veritaserum_ and knew Basil was compelled to tell the truth – or at least what he regarded as truth. He wondered if the boy had been the victim of a memory charm.

"Why were the two of you dueling?"

"Dueling club."

The faculty members looked at each other. Professor Merrythought had disbanded dueling club as dangerous many years earlier. Professor Poppins asked the next question, "You said dueling club?"

"Yes."

"How long has this dueling club been meeting?"

"It started my first year."

"And he's a fifth year now," one professor whispered to another.

"How many students are in this dueling club?"

"I don't know exactly. Some have graduated. New students join."

"Give me an approximate number for how many attend… How often does this club meet?"

"Twice a month."

"Give me an approximate number for how many students attend a dueling club meeting."

"Around forty."

"Around forty… Any one house in particular?"

"Mostly Slytherin."

"He's the victim of a memory charm," Professor Slughorn interrupted.

"We don't know that, Horace," Dumbledore pointed out. "We need to get his story, then check up on it."

Brutus moved to the role of mediator, "A memory charm could affect what he thinks is true. But if there is a dueling club we need to investigate it." He turned back to the Gryffindor student. "Do you know who started this dueling club? Who runs it?"

"Tom Riddle started it, he's in charge."

"Now see here," Professor Slughorn sputtered, "I won't have base accusations made against the best student at Hogwarts."

"We've got a student who has lost half his hand," Dumbledore reminded him. "We need to find the truth."

"And we need to bring the Headmaster in on this," Brutus told them. "Albus, will you stay here until he comes out from the serum? Horace, I think you need to have Lestrange and Riddle at the Headmaster's office in half an hour. The rest of us will go there now. Oh, and Horace?" The head of Slytherin nodded. "We might need more veritaserum to get to the bottom of this."

Tom and Ferret were in their room. Ferret lay on the bed, staring up and wondering what was going to happen. Tom paced the floor and tried to bring his anger under control. How could Marian have been so stupid? This was probably because Gryffindor took the quidditch cup last year. It was a stupid game, it was not worth upsetting Tom's plans. Tom should just dump the blame on Ferret, or at least all the blame he could. Lestrange had delusions of grandeur anyway, imagining that he was Tom's right hand man. There was no number two in Tom's mind. He was in charge and everyone else was beneath him and supposed to follow his orders. And the chances of recruiting Basil Gray to the ranks of his followers had just dropped to zero. And, since the faculty were not going to stop until they had discovered what happened to Basil it meant the end of Dueling Club, and with it less contact with the witches and wizards he was trying to woo to his band of disciples. Ferret was expendable; he was a proven liability. On the other hand, if he were able to save Ferret it would demonstrate his power to his followers. He wondered if he might even be able to get the dueling club recognized. If that fool Professor Merrythought hadn't turned down his request none of this would have happened, it was all her fault.

Professor Slughorn came into their room, "Riddle, Lestrange, some accusations have been made concerning the accident with the Gray boy. You need to come with me now to the Head's Office."

Marian Lestrange was pale and shaking as he stood before the headmaster and a number of faculty. Tom Riddle was outwardly calm. The Headmaster spoke first, "Professor Slughorn, did you bring veritaserum?"

The head of Slytherin nodded and produced the crystal vial and two glasses.

"Marian Lestrange, Basil Gray was injured, losing two fingers. He refused to say how he suffered the loss, but under veritaserum he said it occurred during a duel with you. Further he said that a dueling club has existed, and I should say a clandestine dueling club which had no faculty approval, that the club has existed for years and was run by Tom Riddle. Are you responsible for the wounds suffered by Basil Gray?"

Ferret hesitated, and a new fear struck Tom. If the Slytherian seeker was suspected of trying to lie the faculty would use the _veritaserum_ on him. Under the influence of the potion Ferret could reveal things that Tom did not want know. He hoped Ferret had the sense to realize that – Marian would not want some facts revealed either. It did not appear to Tom, however, that his lieutenant was capable of rational thought at the moment. "I am responsible," Tom said calmly.

"The Gray boy said he was dueling with Lestrange here."

"He was dueling with Marian. In the sense that I organized the club and was in charge of it the ultimate responsibility, and blame, must rest with me."

Ferret gave Tom a look of utter worship.

Headmaster Dippet felt betrayed, "You admit to starting a secret dueling club?"

"That was not my desire. You may write to Professor Merrythought. I believe she will remember that I made multiple requests for an official dueling club to be revived. She–"

"Why did you want to revive dueling club?"

"It was forty or forty-one. I am not certain which. The war was very young and going poorly. I believed it was necessary to prepare the wizards and witches of Hogwarts to fight should the Germans occupy our country. I felt that under such circumstances we would fight, and I wanted us to be prepared. Dueling is still mandatory at Durmstrang. The Dawn Knights are regarded as the most skilled at dueling in the world. If the German wizards broke the Avignon Oath we needed to be prepared."

"So, you saw it as an act of patriotism?" the headmaster asked.

"Yes sir. I knew it was wrong. But I had asked Professor Merrythought to approve the request, and when she turned it down I felt it necessary because of the war."

Professor Dumbledore decided not to ask why, if Tom was burning with such patriotic fervor, he was at still at Hogwarts instead of going into the army. But people do change their minds over the course of years – although Riddle was still presenting patriotism as the reason for mangling the hand of another student.

The two Slytherins were dismissed and the faculty argued over appropriate discipline. Armando Dippet and Horace Slughorn were of the opinion that, while the accident itself was unfortunate and some punishment was in order, the Dueling Club itself should not be grounds for further punishment – Tom Riddle's motives had been pure. The young man should be commended for taking responsibility for his actions and 'fessing up with the truth.

Albus Dumbledore was the leading voice among those calling for greater discipline. "We do not know he told the truth," Professor Dumbledore pointed out. "We only know what he chose to tell us with the threat of veritaserum on the table in front of him."

"He answered the questions we asked. He accepted full blame."

"And what might he have said if he had taken the veritaserum? What was it that he also wished to remain secret after four years of lies?"

Brutus Poppins, who agreed with Professor Dumbledore that stricter punishment than the Headmaster had initially called for was appropriate, coughed. "Sorry Albus, but he is right. We would not have questioned him more broadly than how the Gray boy came to be injured and the existence of the Dueling Club. He made a full confession in that regard. He might have wanted to conceal something, or he might have been afraid of taking the veritaserum, or he might have realized the jig was up and he had no choice but to tell the truth. We can't guess at what might have been. Question is the appropriate punishment in regard to starting a secret club that resulted in injury to another student."

Dumbledore grudgingly conceded the point, "Even without that, the hypocrisy troubles me. Rubeus Hagrid was expelled for lying to faculty – a behavior I can assure you all students engage in to some degree – and keeping a creature that was potentially harmful. Tom Riddle lied on a grander scale – and encouraged a conspiracy of lies among the students of Hogwarts. Not only did his actions have the potential for harming other students but we now have a young man in the infirmary with half his hand missing. Yet I'm hearing some faculty suggest that a written assignment on the dangers of dueling represents an appropriate punishment."

A number of faculty members did not speak to each other for weeks following the argument which followed. All current members of the club were eventually given additional work to do. Riddle's punishment was not significantly greater than the penalty given any other student, and some students and faculty protested he should not be punished at all for his show of patriotism.

Ferret was removed from the Slytherin quidditch team for wounding Basil Gray. Without a seasoned seeker his house lost badly in their game with Hufflepuff and the other students abandoned any hope of winning the quidditch cup that year.

Allied intelligence warned that the Germans planned a major offensive. Allied commanders, convinced the back of German resistance had been broken, ignored the warnings. On December 16 Germany launched the Ardennes Offensive, pushing hundreds of square miles into territory held by the Allied armies in a last ditch effort to force a peace treaty in the west. The fighting raged for more than a month. Americans saw their heaviest casualties of the war in Europe during the fighting, dubbed the Battle of the Bulge in US newspapers for the way the Germans pushed back the Allied forces.

The Americans took the brunt of the German assault, but the British and other Allies suffered casualties as well. Blackie took two minor wounds when his platoon moved to secure the bridges over the Meuse and ended up in an American field hospital. The British soldier didn't know what would happen to him when he recovered enough to fight, having been in the guard house for insubordination when it was explained, but the Americans talking about repple depples scared him enough that rather than waiting for a full recovery he stole a jeep and returned to his squad, abandoning the jeep where it could be returned to the US army. His Lieutenant called him seventeen kinds of obscenities, two of which were new to the Hogsmeade evacuee, and made a mental note to recommend him for promotion to sergeant.

Late in December Porky – no longer porky, but now as muscled as the rest – went into the Navy.

There would never enough letters from Blackie and Porky to satisfy the Harts and the other Dicks.

Squints, next in line in terms of age, wondered if his eyesight would keep him from being drafted.

"Probably," Rabbit always assured him. "Besides, Germany is losing. It'll be over before you have to go."

"Still Japan," Squints reminded him.

Alice added prayers for the speedy end to the war and the safety of Blackie and Porky to the grace before the evening meal each day.

Porky's training began in the New Year. Unlike Blackie he did not care for fighting, but regarded military service as his duty. He tried to stay solidly in the middle of his class during training. He knew that doing very well could attract as much attention as doing poorly and he preferred anonymity. His propensity to seasickness became known during training. He hoped, and a number of sailors and officers assured him, that his stomach would adjust with time and experience.

His stomach did not adjust during the cruise to the Pacific. When his ship stopped at the New Zealand naval training base, HMNZS Tamaki on Motuihe Island, his shipmates requested he be assigned to shore duty of some sort. They liked Porky's sense of humor. They liked the fact he did his work without complaining and never invented excuses for failure. They did not want him becoming violently ill on them during a battle with the Japanese.

Porky had learned to like life on the farm, and while he doubted he'd ever have enough money to purchase the necessary land he would rather work on someone else's farm than return to London.

The war was drawing to a close, or at least the war in Europe. The war in the Pacific was too far away to have the same impact on day-to-day life in Britain. The V-2 rockets were even more frightening than the Buzz Bombs, but Germany's ability to manufacture the weapon, and launching sites from which they could be sent against England would soon be a thing of the past. Many of the remaining evacuees crowded into the Hog's Head each day to learn what news Albert had heard on his crystal set.

* * *

If Vivien Theodore Thomas could become a pioneer in cardiac surgery and teach surgical techniques to medical students at Johns Hopkins University for years when he only had a high school diploma I won't call Eileen Prince becoming a skillful chemical engineer impossible.

Voldemort complained that none of his followers tried to discover what had happened to him after his first defeat. I'm going to blame some of that on his organizational skills (or lack thereof). With no real chain of command when he was removed his followers basically fell apart.

Dr. Johnson wrote that patriotism was the last refuge of the scoundrel. Ambrose Bierce disagreed with this assessment, pointing out that in his experience it was more often the first.

US soldier Kurt Vonnegut was captured during the Battle of the Bulge. He survived the firebombing of Dresden because an underground storage area of a slaughterhouse had been converted into a part of the POW facility. Estimates are well over one hundred thousand civilians were killed in the raid. The POWs were used to recover bodies afterward. His book Slaughterhouse-Five contains memories of the event.

Repple depples, replacement depots, proved wildly unpopular with US troops. If a soldier became separated from his unit, as in recovering from a minor accident, he would be assigned to a replacement depot, then sent out to the next unit requesting replacements. Bill Mauldin complained about them in Up Front, the memoir of his service during the war.

The British Navy commissions its land bases as if they were ships, they are sometimes referred to as stone frigates. New Zealand is among the Commonwealth nations following the tradition.


	16. Duel with the Dark Knight

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack many important characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack did a canon check on this chapter. Any departures are my own. She ordered me to expand the fight scene. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

Thanks to Alex_the_Pretty_Good for many of the German terms.

**Duel with the Dark Knight**

The Big Three met at Yalta in February. Official photos tended to show them sitting not because FDR required leg braces to stand but to hide the fact Stalin was too short to look like a world leader. After the war Americans would claim FDR was too ill to oppose the Soviet leader, but the Soviets were not as power hungry as the US would paint them during the Cold War and the US saw itself in need of Soviet aid.

The Soviets were isolated and wanted friends, and would have welcomed continued warm relations with the US and Britain after the war. Russia's isolation would be the reason Soviet historians later presented for Stalin signing the non-aggression pact – Stalin didn't want to divide Poland, but Hitler twisted his arm. That bit of Soviet history was, of course, a lie, but based on the reality that the Soviets wanted peace on their borders.

Russia had been invaded three times in less than thirty years - including by the Allies in 1918, when the US and British troops had refused to fight to put czarist oppression back in power. Although Russia had fought with the Allies in World War I they had still been stripped of much of their land and population at the war's end. The Allies identified the Czar's government as fighting against the Kaiser's Germany, but it was the Russian people, not the Czar, who had fought and died in WWI, only to feel betrayed by their own Allies as new nations were carved from their land. The Soviets wanted a sphere of influence on their border, and at Yalta Churchill and FDR agreed. The Soviets had faced more than twice as many Germans as their Allies, and the cream of the German army. In the Ardennes Offensive the Germans had hurled old men and conscripted thirteen year olds at the Allies – and pushed them back. The Soviets had not faced old men and young boys, and millions had died. It was the Soviets who had pushed the Germans out of Eastern Europe.

FDR had another reason for accepting Stalin's desire for a sphere of influence. The Allies had required the Soviets to defeat Hitler. The Soviets might be necessary for victory against Japan as well. Stalin promised to declare war against Japan – something the Soviets and Japanese had both carefully avoided – if Eastern Europe was recognized as a Soviet sphere of influence. Many in the US predicted the war against Japan would drag on for years. Those making the prediction did not know of the atomic bomb program, but how effective the bombs might be or the rate at which they could be made was uncertain even for those working on the Manhattan Project. What was certain was the appalling casualty rates at Tarawa, Saipan, Peleliu and other battles. FDR knew Iwo Jima would be attacked in a few days. If troops had to go into Japan the way troops had to go into Germany the US military was not strong enough.

Churchill returned to London following the Yalta conference. In the middle of a small meeting in his war office a man suddenly appeared. Quite suddenly appeared. He had not been seen to enter the room, but there he stood with his arms raised in the air in surrender and some sort of material that shimmered like water lay on the floor at his feet. Confusion reigned in the room, but two armed men drew pistols and aimed at the intruder while joining the rest in looking around the room nervously for fear of other surprise enemies.

The Prime Minister alone kept his head, "Get me Bagnold and Crock, and come back here with them immediately."

"Shall I alert–"

"You will get me Bagnold and Crock. You won't tell another soul, and you'll return here with them."

The two privates came running when summoned. One of them stared at the intruder, "Connie?"

"Beans?"

"He's one of your boys? What's he doing breaking in here?" Churchill asked.

"He's not one of our boys," Private Bagnold answered. "He's Conrad Sauberkehren, German. Attended school here, Hogwarts class of nineteen-thirty-two."

"What's Hogwarts?" one of the aides who had been in the meeting that had been broken up demanded.

"It doesn't matter," Private Crock informed him. "You won't remember it."

Ten minutes later only the three wizards and Churchill remained in the room. "I thought you were supposed to keep me safe from German attack," the Prime Minister told the wizards in an accusatory tone.

"He was wearing an invisibility cloak," Bagnold pointed out.

"And you haven't given us security clearance to be at a meeting that high," Crock reminded him. "We've asked for clearance. Not that we could have stopped this." He pulled the invisibility cloak over himself, and was gone.

"You're missing the point," the German wizard pointed out. "There is threat on Churchill's life… There is threat on the lives of all the American's and English generals."

"It looks to me like we captured the threat," the PM growled, "or are there are lot of you assassins over here?"

"I am not here to kill you. I am here to make port keys for–"

"Port keys?"

"Port keys are a way of moving from one place to another," private Bagnold explained. "If he takes something from your office – a cigar for example – he can turn it into a port key. He takes the key back to Germany and someone else holds it, they're transported to your office."

The German wizard nodded. "I was sent to England because I studied here. I've got a list of men I need to try and provide port keys for: the Prime Minister, the King, and as many generals as possible."

"But why?

"Gellert Grindelwald has lost his mind and wants to go Gotterdammerung. He's breaking the Avignon Oath, he's declared that the slaughter of the allied leaders is Germany's only hope. He has dispatched several of us. Two wizards are on their way to the United States and others dispatched to the Soviet Union. We are to make port keys, return to him and he will do the actual killing."

"Who is this Gringlewald character?"

"Grindelwald," Crock corrected him, "Head of the Dawn Knights, big man in the German Wizard's Guild, and very probably the most dangerous wizard in the world."

"Why not just commit the murders yourself," Churchill asked the German. "Why did you surrender?"

"If I commit the murders as I locate my targets," the German explained, "it would require hours or days. And as leaders were killed it would increase the level of security around potential victims. It would become more difficult. Instead I make the port keys and return with as many as possible. Grindelwald will go to a location, kill the leader, use the next port key, and finally return to Germany, all in an hour's time. The result will be even more devastating on your country's morale – wondering how large an army of assassins is inside your nation. I surrendered because he is mad. Germany has lost the war. Killing you will not change that. Germany has lost. If the British and French wizards seek revenge it could cause an even greater bloodbath. He can't be allowed to do this. The Morgenritters must not be allowed to enter the fighting."

"England thanks you," Churchill murmured.

"I am not here to help England," the German reported proudly. "I am here to serve the interests of Germany."

"Let me call Servius Fudge," Bagnold told the Prime Minister.

"Who is he," Conrad asked.

"He's the contact with the Ministry of Magic. This is big. He'll certainly call in his bosses."

"Will any of you have the power to face the Morganritters or Grindelwald?" Conrad demanded.

The question worried Churchill, along with an English wizard referring to the German as the most dangerous wizard in the world. He realized he had little real knowledge of what the wizards were capable of doing. "Can you stop this Grindelwald?" he asked nervously.

The privates did not want to alarm the Prime Minister, but they were frightened. If the Dawn Knights acted in concert it would be difficult to stop them and the British government might collapse in chaos with the assassination of many of the nation's leaders. Churchill's wizard bodyguards felt overwhelmed by the possibility which confronted them.

Churchill allowed his war office to be used by wizards for an emergency meeting, although under the circumstances he demanded to sit in on it. The Prime Minister did not realize how many of the greatest names in the British wizarding community were there. Fully a third of the Hogwarts faculty were present, with the heads of most departments in the Ministry of Magic and all the senior aurors. There were a number of respected wizards and witches who held no office as well. Servius Fudge stayed at Churchill's right hand to whisper explanations about topics under discussion.

"What is this fidelius charm?" the Prime Minister whispered.

"Can hide you from assassins. But it would keep you from making public appearances. Not a practical solution."

An argument broke out among those who thought Conrad Sauberkehren should only be questioned under _veritaserum_, and those who held that it would be pointless – if he had come of his own free-will he was telling the truth, and if he was there to spread disinformation his memory would have been altered.

The German insisted that the Wizard's Guild itself was not behind the plan, "Grindelwald is Obermagister of the Zauberzunft, but he does not have the power to issue orders to all members. I am certain that the rest of zunft does not know of his plans."

"So this is strictly Dawn Knights?"

Conrad hesitated, "That is my belief… I do not believe we are united in this. Those of us who were sent out to make the port keys were all Morgenritters. We met at Nurmengard Castle and he gave us orders as Grossmeister."

Albus Dumbledore asked the next question, "Yet you are here now. Are you alone in questioning the wisdom of his order?"

The German closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening his eyes and answering. "I do not know. I will be honest. Early in the war the ritters discussed an active role in the fighting. Grindelwald himself forbade the idea. He told us that the muggles must fight the war for themselves. If we entered the war it would certainly mean wizards spilling the blood of wizards and this was verboten. This last year, as the war has turned against our nation, there has been more talk – but I have heard more of the ritters saying we should kill Hitler and the top Nazis to speed the road to peace than I have heard wizards talking of fighting for them. Hitler is mad. If the Aryans cannot rule the world he would have us all slaughtered in a final conflagration. Now the madness has seized Grindelwald, and he sent us out to make port keys for him."

"You make it sound like most of the Dawn Knights do not agree with the plan."

"I do not know. The plan is so new I have no idea if it has support. We are frightened to speak honestly to one another. I can't believe more than a handful would wish this on our people. I don't know one, other than Grindelwald himself."

"Does the fact Grindelwald himself plans to handle the killing suggest he may not trust you?"

"I don't know. As I explained, he thinks that staging the murders in a short span of time will cause the greatest level of fear. Perhaps he doesn't trust us... He does not confide in me."

"You, of course, were chosen because you know the country and language. You said other wizards were to make port keys for other Allied leaders?"

"Yes. The Soviets might be the easiest to disrupt, if a port key can be made. Stalin is the head, cut him off and the Soviets will collapse. But the Russian wizards guard him closely. Confronted with Hitler the Russian wizards made peace with Stalin. Three men were sent to fashion a port key to Stalin, but I do not think they will succeed."

Nicolas Flamel spoke. The wizard held no title, but was the oldest wizard in Britain and very powerful, and his advice was valued.

"I suggest a trap for Grindelwald. It doesn't sound like the Dawn Knights are enthusiastic for this. Mr. Sauberkehren here should manufacture several port keys, but they all lead to a same destination. I've had more experience with duels I can assume the face of the Prime Minister with polyjuice potion and–"

"Polyjuice potion?" Churchill whispered to Fudge.

"Makes a person look like someone else."

"–face him," the old wizard finished.

"No," Malcolm Bones objected. "The idea of the trap is fine. The sealing spell is fine. You shouldn't face him alone. Wizard's honor is for those who deserve it, and if he's sneaking in to murder he doesn't deserve it. Half a dozen aurors in invisibility cloaks with you."

"And if he tests the port key to see how many people are in the proximity of the destination? If his plan is to kill important individuals swiftly he won't want to take out whole rooms full of people."

"Gellert Grindelwald is an old, and very dear friend," Albus Dumbledore said with sadness. "I would not have him cut down like a dog. I like the plan Nicolas proposed, but I want to be there instead. Perhaps I can reason with him. You heard Conrad said that early in the war he forbid the knights from playing an active role. If I can't persuade him... If he manages to kill me... Well, I don't think he can remove the sealing spell before half a dozen aurors in the antechamber deal with him."

All the wizards and witches at the meeting liked the basics of Professor Flamel's idea. Many favored Malcolm Bones' suggestion, but in the end Brutus Poppins managed a compromise. Gellert Grindelwald might fear a trap and check the port keys to ascertain they all led to different destinations. Groups of wizards would wait at all but one of the destinations. Albus Dumbledore would wait alone in one office, with a number of aurors waiting outside the room in case he failed to stop the Dawn Knight's Grandmaster.

Conrad had a final request. He would remain in Germany to face the consequences of his decision, but he wanted his wife and two children to be safe. It was agreed that a port key would be made for his own use, which could be used to bring his family to the Tower of London where a _fidelius charm_ would be provided for their protection. He was initially a little hesitant at hearing Tower of London, but was reminded it was not only used as a prison but also a royal residence and had many comfortable rooms for the Tower Wardens, he was promised his family would not be regarded as prisoners.

Churchill allowed the use of his own office for Albus Dumbledore, and contributed a couple hairs to the polyjuice potion. Senior aurors escorted the Prime Minister home and Bagnold and Crock waited with the German.

"Beans, make sure my family is all right."

"They'll be fine, Connie. I promise. You'll be fine too."

"I… I hope so. I feel like I'm betraying my country."

Albus Dumbledore heard the conversation. He knew Conrad from classes at Hogwarts and put a hand on the younger man's back. "You're not betraying your country. You're saving lives. I know you're experiencing doubts, that's normal. Even those with some gift of second sight don't see much of the future, and most of us not at all. But we have to do the best we can with what we have. You're doing what is right for your nation."

The German managed a weak smile. Over the next few hours wizards arrived with port keys set for other destinations. Malcolm Bones delivered the final instructions to the German before Conrad returned to Nurmengard. "This is the port key to the Tower," he explained, handing over an envelope. "There will be aurors waiting there. If you send your wife over here immediately we'll probably be watching her and your children to make sure they aren't someone else with a dose of polyjuice. Tell her to hand her wand over immediately – she'll be watched for an hour. Waiting an hour or two until after Grindelwald has left will probably mean a more welcoming arrival for them. If you haven't already planned your story the fact you went to school over here meant it was much easier for you to apparate your way around and get the port keys so fast. Any questions?"

The German shook his head no.

"Warn him that people move around for the sake of security. You think the keys are good now, but the longer he waits the more chance of not finding someone. But he's probably smart enough to figure that out for himself… Better not press it, makes you look too anxious."

Conrad nodded his head in agreement.

Malcolm stuck out a hand to shake with the German, "Good luck. You're a brave man. Hope to see you soon."

"Danke," Conrad answered and opened a parcel with the port key to return him to Nurmengard Castle. "Auf wiedersehen."

Malcolm shook hands with Dumbledore and wished him luck as well, then asked the wizards waiting in the outer room if they were ready. After they assured him they were prepared Malcolm apparated to the other locations to warn watchers to be on their guard.

Dumbledore glanced at the clock on Churchill's desk and wondered if he should take another sip of polyjuice potion. If Grindelwald had gone to another of the sites he should have heard word by now. The German would use the keys quickly. How long should be expect to wait? The distraction of thinking almost killed Dumbledore. Grindelwald was fast, faster than the professor expected and he saw no need to speak to his prey. He directed a curse at the 'Prime Minister' as soon as he appeared in the office. The German did not want to give Churchill the opportunity to sound an alarm. But while he got his curse off quickly he did not realize he was facing a wizard and Dumbledore had time to ward off the curse. In the second of surprise as the Grandmaster of the Dawn Knights realized he faced a wizard Dumbledore completed the spell, sealing the room.

Grindelwald aimed his wand again for another curse, it was imperative now he kill the wizard who faced him quickly so he could return to Nurmengard.

"It has been a long time, Gellert," Churchill remarked.

The German lowered his wand, "Albus?"

"Yes. You've disappointed me."

"Join me."

"What?"

"Join me."

Dumbledore frowned, "Join the Knights? Join you in attacking Britain? Are you mad?"

"Has your imagination grown so small? Many call you the greatest wizard in England. You can't see what I'm doing?"

Dumbledore thought quickly, "I confess, I can't see anything but an attempt on our Prime Minister's life to help Hitler."

The German laughed, "I am doing what we discussed years ago. I serve the cause of the wizarding community… And I dare say I serve the cause of every muggle sick of war and yearning for peace." Dumbledore still looked puzzled. "I don't serve that madman cowering in his bunker – as frightened of his own people as he is of the Russians who draw ever nearer. This is our time to act, our hour."

"Our hour? I'm lost."

"The nations of Europe are in a state of collapse. Economies are ruined; cities lie in rubble. Tens of millions have died. The muggles want security more than they want freedom. This is our chance."

"You are saying that wizards should seize political power?"

"Exactly. Kill Stalin and Russian collapses – the fool has purged anyone with a brain because he fears rivals to his power. Kill Tito and the Balkans are ours. We don't even need to bother with figureheads like de Gaulle or Badoglio. There will need to be a few more deaths here in England, but I dare say twenty of your leading men and your nation will be rudderless as well. What is that when millions have already died? It will allow us to step in and bring true peace to Europe."

"And Hitler?"

"A walking dead man. A wizard has had a vision of him putting the gun in his own mouth. We will bring peace and security. We will erase the artificial borders that encourage war. It is our duty to use our power for the greater good. The muggles will love us for the peace we bring."

"There have been wizard rulers before, they've all come to bad ends."

"Kings of tiny fiefdoms, ridden with the same petty needs for power as muggle kings and trying to keep it all in their own hands. This will be a band of wizards taking our rightful place as rulers. There will be no need for jealousy or seeking to enlarge territory. All Europe will be ours. Hitler promised a thousand year Reich. It did not endure fifteen. Wizards can do it. You and I talked of this years ago, how much better we could make the world if wizards ran it. This is our chance. The muggles have ruined the world, we will rebuild it, and take our place as leaders. Surely you remember our conversations?"

"I remember. That was a long time ago. I think I understand muggles better now. Their fears and hopes are not so different from our own. What is your plan for them?"

"They will serve us. It is little to ask for the peace and security we will bring. It is for the good of all."

"It is not our place to rule."

"Of course it is our place! Look at what they've done! We can do better. We will do better. They will love us."

"You would substitute wizard tyranny for muggle tyranny."

"I would bring peace and security."

"No. I can't allow you to go forward with your plans."

"Think about it… Let me go. In a day or two you will realize I am right."

"Sorry. It must end here, today."

Grindelwald's voice changed, taking on a pleading tone, "Albus, we were friends. We were closer than friends. I know your heart. Join me! Dare to reach for the greater good we talked about. I do not dream this for myself alone."

"And all these I shall give you if you bow down and worship me."

"What?"

"A quote, from one of the gospels... I can never keep them straight. Satan offered Jesus all the kingdoms on earth. I fear I must take that as my model."

"And that is your final answer?"

"That is my final answer."

Grindelwald smiled a sad smile. "A pity. I will truly hate to kill you."

"You seem awfully certain of yourself."

"Did you notice my wand?"

Albus had not, but stared at it now. "That's not your old wand."

"Oh, but it is a vastly older wand than the one I used years ago. I thought perhaps you might recognize it. We talked about this wand a great deal. But I recall that I myself was not certain it was the true wand when I first saw it."

"Talked about… Old wand… You mean to tell me you found the Elder Wand, you are holding it now?"

"That is exactly what I am saying."

"But how did you… Where?"

"The search took years of my life. I fear there is not time enough to tell you the story before your death."

"You must forgive my caution, but so many think it is a myth. We talked about it so much… How can you know that is the Elder Wand or not?"

The German shrugged, "Whether you believe or not, I know the truth."

"I don't suppose there's any chance you let me have a look at it, satisfy the old curiosity?"

Grindelwald laughed, "You have not changed, Albus. Your unusual sense of humor remains intact, even when facing death."

"Thank you. And I fear it is too late to say I've changed my mind about letting you go and thinking over your proposal for a few days."

"True. I fear you would not be sincere in the offer and would merely be seeking to preserve your life."

"It is the only one I have, and I am rather fond of it."

"Then you should have joined me. I asked you for you to join of your free will. Now I would not be able to trust you."

Dumbledore had known the confrontation would be dangerous, but had not realized how dangerous. He had hoped to convince the German through argument rather than battle, but had thought he was ready for a fight. Years ago he and Grindelwald had practiced dueling skills often, and Albus often won. Grindelwald had probably gained more experience than the transfiguration professor in the last several decades, but Dumbledore had, in his vanity, imagined he could win. The owner of the Elder Wand could not be defeated in a wizards' duel. As long as the wand was in his hand any magical attack would fail.

Spells ran through Dumbledore's mind at a rapid clip, but he could think of no spell which promised to be stronger than the protection the Elder Wand gave its owner. "Would you mind if I stood up? I'd rather fight my final duel on my feet than a chair."

"Certainly. It will make no difference."

"Show of good faith," Albus said and put his wand down on the edge of the desk before standing up and moving around to the other side of the desk. Dumbledore picked up Churchill's humidor and turned to the German, "Cigar?"

Grindewald relaxed slightly, with the wand on the other side of the large desk and out of reach Albus was helpless. "Thank you, no. Do you wish a final smoke?"

"I never picked up the habit. Too late now I suppose."

"That is true. I always enjoyed your droll sense of humor."

"Thank you." The Englishman made no effort to return the humidor to the desk and pick up his wand.

Grindelwald waited a few seconds. "Come, come, Albus. You are simply killing time."

"Infinitely preferable to being killed, wouldn't you agree?"

"I will miss you, Albus," the German said with what sounded like genuine regret. "But it is time. You need your wand."

"I suppose it is time." Dumbledore began to turn to set the humidor back on the desk. He paused as if he had forgotten say something and spun back around – gaining momentum with the spin as he released the wooden box and sent it into the face of the startled German. Before Grindelwald could recover from the surprise attack Dumbledore snatched the wand from the German's hand and pointed it at the Dawn Knight, _"Confringo!"_ Nothing happened.

Grindelwald had been staggered by the blow to his face, and was bleeding from a cut on the cheek, but he had not gone down and the angry wizard wanted blood. Fortunately for Dumbledore, without his wand Grindelwald was reduced to the same sort of physical attack that the Hogwarts professor had used. Unfortunately for Dumbledore the Dawn Knight appeared to be far more capable of defending himself in a fistfight than the Hogwarts professor.

Without letting go of the German's useless wand Dumbledore turned to the desk and dove for his own wand. He slid over the polished wooden surface, scattering the Prime Minister's papers, and crashed to the floor on the other side of the desk. As Grindelwald rounded the corner of the desk to attack Dumbledore struggled to his knees and pointed his wand at his former friend. _"Confringo!"_

The explosion knocked Grindelwald backwards. He smashed into the wall and fell heavily on the floor where he lay still.

The explosion had knocked Dumbledore over as well, but he was able to struggle to his feet, panting from the sudden exertion and the adrenaline rush of terror. He stared at the German's wand, wondering why it had not worked. Grindelwald would not have brought a defective wand. The Elder Wand was supposed to have some sort of affinity for its owner. Albus had hoped that simply having the wand in his hand might have given him the authority to use it, but its failure to respond to him when he tried to use it against Grindelwald suggested the wand did not recognize him – or had not recognized him at that point in the fight. The professor pointed the Elder Wand at the German again and tried a binding spell. Thin cords flew from the end of the wand, circling the Dawn Knight and holding him tightly.

In the anteroom outside Churchill's office a squad of aurors waited anxiously. The sealing of the room told them Grindelwald had arrived, but kept them in ignorance about what was happening in the room. The long period of silence was worrisome. If Dumbledore had defeated the German surely he would have removed the seal – if he were still able. On the other hand, if Grindelwald had killed the professor he would have made some attempt to break the seal. Without knowing what seal was in place it would probably cause a disturbance in the spell of some sort – and none had been detected. Perhaps both men had died, or been injured enough that they were trapped inside. Perhaps Grindelwald had some power to leave a sealed room, or knew some test to determine the spell surrounding the room without the usual disturbance.

"I say we remove the seal," the tall black woman suggested.

"Patience, Kiserian," the senior auror told her.

"She's right," an older witch shot back. "If the professor's down he may need help. We have to know what happened in there."

The other two members of the group muttered their opinion in favor of Kiserian's suggestion.

"Fine," the auror in charge sighed. "Give him five more minutes."

It was only two minutes later that the seal dissipated. The aurors held their wands a little tighter and pointed them nervously at the door. The raps Dumbledore had told them to expect as a signal that all was well were heard and the door opened. Standing in the doorway a tired Dumbledore announced, "It is finished."

The other aurors dropped their wand hands in relief, but Kiserian kept hers trained on the wizard standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing," one of the others hissed.

"Polyjuice potion in there. Could be Grindelwald. I'm not taking any chances. That's not Dumbeldore's wand."

Albus smiled, "I confess to taking his. Mine is in my sleeve, may I show you?"

"I hope you don't mind me pointing out that Grindelwald would take the wand from Professor Dumbeldore if he won."

"I would have been disappointed if you hadn't pointed it out. Malcolm taught you well."

She grinned back, "Thanks," but her wand didn't waver. "What was the name of the big mixed blood out at the school?"

"Rubeus Hagrid. Want to hear what happened to him?"

"A little later, please. Give me the first name of the witch who was killed."

"Myrtle."

"And the name Rubeus Hagrid gave his friend?"

"I don't remember. Sorry."

"That's okay. I don't remember either," Kiserian laughed. "Tell me how many legs his friend had and I give you a kiss for saving England."

"Eight." He opened his arms and gave the witch a hug after she lowered her wand and moved toward him.

"What about the other Knights?" the auror in charge asked. "Did you learn anything about their plan of attack?"

"There is no plan of attack. Grindelwald went dark wizard. The Knights have not broken their oath. There is no evidence they plan to attack."

They did not believe him.

The officials from the ministry and senior aurors did not believe him immediately either. Some never believed him. They thought that Grindelwald represented the point of the Knight attack, and with the Grandmaster of the order defeated the rest simply abandoned their plan to attack Britain. They remained convinced Dumbledore had saved Churchill, the King, and other leaders and now the professor was refusing to take the full credit due him either from a false sense of modesty or in order to keep a magic war from breaking out between the British and German wizarding communities.

The questions were entirely on the subject of whether the Dawn Knights as a group were involved in the attack. Dumbledore saw no point in giving a detailed version of the fight, letting them assume it was a typical wizard's duel, and he saw no point in claiming that he had faced the Elder Wand. Most of those present thought the wand a fable anyway and he saw no reason to dissuade them from that opinion.

After hours of questioning and arguments at least some accepted Dumbledore's version, that Grindelwald acted strictly on his own and had gone rogue as a dark wizard. Tenuous connections still existed between the wizarding communities, even though their nations were at war, and one of the ministers with a connection to the Knights promised to seek confirmation.

Brutus Poppins had been allowed to sit in the room during the questions, although he had not been permitted to speak. When Professor Dumbledore was dismissed his friend joined him as they headed out of the Ministry building. "What really happened in Churchill's office?"

"What I said… You don't doubt me too?"

"Not that I doubt you, I just suspect there is more to the story than you told everyone. That black auror said you were in there a long time. You told me once that you and Grindelwald… Well…"

The transfiguration professor sighed. "That is a truth I've mentioned to very few. I trust you, Brutus."

"But you won't tell me more about the conversation?"

"No. It really isn't relevant to anything which happened today. We talked of ideas we shared when we were little more than boys. Some grow wiser with age. For some the sins of youth only become ingrained habits of evil with age. When I see some of the wild students at Hogwarts I wonder if–"

"You're avoiding the question."

"I suppose I am."

"You need to open up and let others know what's going on in your head and heart."

Albus laughed, "You're very like my brother."

"Does this mean you won't be talking with me either?"

Dumbledore knew his friend made the comment in jest, but didn't join in the laughter. "No. Gellert and I… Our relationship… There are details I don't want to remember, but it's part of the estrangement between my brother and me. I don't want it discussed, and it isn't relevant to anything which happened today. What I told the ministry was true. He was not acting as head of the Dawn Knights. He acted purely on his own, but used his authority as Grandmaster of the order to compel the knights to help his plans. Conrad preserved his honor, and the honor of the Knights, by stopping his plans. I think that showed far more courage than my own actions today."

Brutus patted his friend on the back. "Well every witch and wizard in Britain will be hailing you as the hero who saved the nation tomorrow. And I'll be proud to say I knew you back when. But, seriously, you need to confide in someone, if–"

"I confide in you!"

"If I'm the person you confide in most you really need someone you can fully trust."

"Yes, Aberforth," Dumbledore chuckled. "Can we go back to Hogwarts now?"

"Not yet. I think the Leaky Cauldron should be open. Their ale isn't as good as your brother's, but I want to be the first to buy you a pint for what you did today. I'll wager that over the next few years you'd be able to float a good-sized ship in all the pints you'll be offered."

Two days later, after a long argument with Servius Fudge in which the Prime Minister demanded consideration for allowing the use of his office Winston Churchill became the first Prime Minister, one of the few muggles, to visit the Ministry of Magic. He sat beneath an invisibility cloak in one corner and Sergeants Bagnold and Crock, both with top level security clearance, stood in front of him.

With the suddenness of a port key two tall, grim looking men stood in the room, one wearing the uniform of a German colonel. Churchill gasped slightly at the sight of a German appearing in a room in the middle of London. He was beginning to realize the wizards were capable of far greater acts than he had ever imagined.

"Are you unarmed?" a senior minister asked.

"As you demanded," the man not in uniform answered. "The Morgenritters always keep their word. We are trusting you show equal faith in the truce you offered."

"If you don't mind," another minister said, "we want to check for ourselves."

"English wizards are without honor," the German in uniform sneered. "Of course I expect you to see for yourselves."

"Quiet, Hans," the man not in uniform whispered as the first minister spoke.

"It was a Dawn Knight, the head of your order in fact, who attempted the assassination of our Prime Minister two days ago. I think we showed a great deal of faith and trust in even offering the truce for this meeting."

"I will believe your word if you allow us to return to Nurmengard as promised at the end of the meeting," the officer retorted.

Churchill wished he hadn't come. He didn't understand most of the discussion, and the fact the German officer was allowed into London was only slightly less annoying than the fact the man was allowed to leave at the end of the meeting.

At the end of the discussion, before returning to the headquarters of the Knights the colonel asked, "Will you tell me if Frau Sauberkehren and her children are in your country?"

The ministers remained silent, but Sergeant Bagnold answered. "They are."

"Then we shall look for them no longer."

"What happened to Conrad?" Bagnold asked in return.

As a gesture of thanks for having his question answered Hans told him, "He is incarcerated for the present. The tribunal will meet later to decide his fate. Some say he should be released if the Grossmeister truly acted as a dark wizard. You have not convinced me today that the Grossmeister betrayed the Oath and Order, but I confess you have raised doubts in my mind. Some say that even if the Grossmeister betrayed the order that Herr Sauberkehren should be executed for his actions."

"What do you think?"

"My opinion is for the tribunal, not your British Ministry," the officer snapped.

Churchill kept his opinion of allowing the German officer a truce to visit London and return safely to himself as he rode back to the war office with his bodyguards. He still chuckled, "He didn't like being caught in a lie did he?"

"Pardon?"

"That officer… Hans, I think. Wouldn't admit they were caught red-handed."

"I'm not sure I understand. What lie?"

"That his Knights weren't breaking their oath thing. Got real hot under the collar."

"He was certainly angry, Sir. But it is not at all clear the Knights were engaged in oath breaking. Professor Dumbledore insists Grindelwald was acting on his own."

"A man that angry is angry for being caught. He kept denying the evidence."

"The Knights are an very old order, Sir. They have hunted dark wizards and evildoers for centuries. To be told any member of the order has betrayed that trust and become a dark wizard himself? To be told your leader himself had become a dark wizard? If someone claimed tomorrow that you were a Nazi or a Communist I think everyone in Britain would denounce it as a lie. His anger was reasonable under the circumstances. We can only hope he will accept the truth."

The truth was something often lacking as Dumbledore's duel with the German was told and retold. In the version Frederick Wren heard, and he insisted it was true because he had a cousin in the Ministry building, who had a friend, who knew the neighbor of one of the aurors in the outer office and had been told half a dozen Dawn Knights had accompanied Grindelwald when he arrived to slay all the members of Parliament and set fire to London. Charlie Hexam was equally adamant that fully twenty aurors had been killed in the battle, and what he wanted to know was why the ministry was covering it up?

While the two gaffers held fast to two of the more outrageous versions of the story, and almost came to blows when the other refused to accept the truth, all the stories told around Hogsmeade, like the versions told around the Ministry itself, embroidered the details to some extent. Some accepted that Grindelwald had become a dark wizard and acted on his own. Some believed the Knights themselves were involved. But everyone believed Professor Dumbledore had saved Britain with an act of heroism.

At Hogwarts Armando Dippet was in a foul mood. He had been quietly trying to turn the Governors away from consideration of Albus Dumbledore as next headmaster for more than a year. "I've nothing against Professor Dumbledore. He is a great teacher, but he can be a little temperamental; brushes some faculty the wrong way. You need a head who works well with everyone. Someone more like Professor Poppins would be a better choice for the school." But with Professor Dumbledore now hailed as a hero and savior of the nation Headmaster Dippet knew there was no point in mentioning any other name, and anticipated questions from the Governors on when he planned to retire. He might stay on a few years longer than planned just to spite them.

Albus Dumbledore found the adulation galling. He was praised for things he had not done and did not see his actions as heroic. The incident had only served to open old and painful wounds, and the praise only made it worse.

He asked for a few days leave of absence for personal reasons. He stopped at the Hog's Head. Eleanor was in the public room, chatting with Mrs. Spiggot when he came in.

"Albus, good to see you," Eleanor called.

"Can I get you a pint?" Mrs. Spiggot asked.

The professor smiled and shook his head no to the woman behind the bar. "Thanks, Ellie. I really want to talk with Abe. He around?"

"Downstairs… I'll warn him you're going down."

The wait was a little longer than strictly necessary to say, "Albus wants to see you." And even though the door was closed some fragments of what sounded like an argument came into the Common Room.

"You can go down now," Ellie told him when she emerged from the cellar.

"Well?" Aberforth demanded when Albus reached the bottom of the stairs."

"You've heard the talk."

"Aye."

"None of it's true."

"I suspected as much."

"I'm no hero."

"I knew that already."

"I'm taking a few days off, there's a trip I need to make."

Aberforth looked puzzled. "Why are you here?"

"I need some time for thinking… I'm going to visit Ariana's grave."

Aberforth looked puzzled, and a little angry at the memory.

"Come with me, please," Albus asked.

"What?"

"Come with me."

"I don't–"

"I need someone who knows I'm no hero. Who won't offer me a pint. Please, Abe, I need you."

There was a moment's silence in the cellar. "I'll go with you. When are we leaving?"

"As soon as you can put a bag together. Thanks."

"Not sure thanks are in order. I may break your nose again."

Albus shrugged, "I need you. I'll risk it."

That night Eleanor wrote a long letter to her daughter Mary in the states. Mary was as anxious for her father and uncle to make peace with each other as her mother, and Eleanor felt optimistic that Albus and Aberforth would become reconciled.

The brothers did not make peace on their trip. But the open hostility that marked Aberforth's reaction whenever Albus was mentioned lessened. If the two men did not make peace at least some sort of uneasy truce came to exist between them. Eleanor saw it as progress in the next letter to Mary. Eleanor remained cheerful about the fact there was progress rather than remembering it had taken almost half a century for any movement to take place.

* * *

I've heard Rowling was once inconsistent in an interview and said that Grindelwald was killed in 1945. In the books, however, he was alive until Voldie killed him years later. I didn't provide details, but I would assume he was kept a prisoner in Azkaban until the end of the war, at which time he was handed over to the Dawn Knights who kept him under guard at their headquarters in Nurmengard Castle.


	17. VE Day and Evacuation's End

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack canon checked this chapter. Any departures are my own. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background of the character as he appears in this story.

**VE Day and Evacuation's End**

German capability of bombing Britain ended in the spring, and some evacuees returned home. Evacuation was not officially ended, however. Homes had been destroyed in London and some families did not have places to stay. The government also worried about the disruption of the school year. The evacuees in the country were attending classes. The classrooms of London and other large cities were in chaos, with some school building destroyed and others closed because of the smaller number of children due to the evacuation. They were not ready to handle thousands of returning children. Evacuation orders would remain in effect until the end of the school year in June.

The first quidditch game of the spring saw Gryffindor facing Ravenclaw. Gryffindor was expected to win easily, expected to take the house cup that year, but the game proved much closer and went on longer than anyone expected. Gryffindor finally managed the win, but everyone in Ravenclaw saw it as a good omen: next year their team would be a power to be reckoned with. A few Ravenclaws felt even more optimistic, but were afraid to voice their hopes. While Ravenclaw had lost twice they were both long and high-scoring games. Their final game would be against Slytherin, now crippled by the loss of their seeker. They would watch the remaining games closely. Perhaps if they prolonged the final game they would be able to win the cup.

Near the end of April the Red Army reached the edge the rubble which had been the city of Berlin. On April 30 Hitler committed suicide.

Hufflepuff played Gryffindor on Saturday, May 5. The war was over. Germany had still not surrendered, but it was clear the war was over and the formal announcement was expected any day.

The Gryffindor team wanted a decisive win. They knew they were regarded as the strongest team, but the length of the game against Ravenclaw had raised doubts about Gryffindor's level of ability in the minds of some students. They wanted a large margin of victory to prove the critics wrong and to secure the cup for themselves.

If desire won quidditch games most contests would end in a tie. The Gryffindor team had the desire, but Hufflepuff had Guinevere Thomas, playing in her last game. Gryffindor had a hundred point advantage in goals when Guinevere captured the snitch, ending the short game. Some of the Ravenclaws in the stands grinned at the outcome. They knew the points Ravenclaw had scored in their two games, and they added up the totals for Gryffindor's three games. Despite the loss to Hufflepuff the Gryffindor team was in the lead for the cup. Their lead, however, was small enough it could not be called secure. Ravenclaw would play Slytherin, the team which had lost its seeker in the dueling club scandal. Gryffindor had taken the cup last year by prolonging the final game. Despite two losses Ravenclaw was in a good position to repeat the feat this year if they could decisively beat the weakened Slytherins.

After the game Hufflepuff returned to their house to plan the evening's party to celebrate the win. They knew they could not win the cup, but ending the season with a win over a strong team was reason to celebrate. Gryffindor returned to their house feeling slightly downhearted at having lost the game, but knowing they were in the lead for the cup. As they did the math in their heads, however, they realized that their lead was more tenuous than they would like.

On Monday, May 8, Germany ratified the surrender terms. From Moscow to San Francisco the parties went on into the early hours of the morning. There was still the war in the Pacific to be fought, but for most of the British battles half a world away were not quite real. The war with Hitler was the war which effected their daily lives, the war in the Pacific was newsreels and radio summaries.

Other than thousands of sailors joined in the looting of Halifax it was a day of joy for the Allies. In the United States flags remained at half-mast in honor of FDR, who had died less than a month earlier, but any other signs of mourning were difficult to find. London was packed solid from Trafalgar Square to Buckingham palace with celebrants. The two princesses, Elizabeth and Margaret, were allowed to 'dress down' and slipped out anonymously to join the throng. George VI and his wife Elizabeth appeared on the balcony of Buckingham Palace with Winston Churchill.

Classes were dismissed at both Hogwarts and the Hogsmeade village school. Teachers knew students would not remember a word they said that day, and the professors were anxious to celebrate themselves. No effort was made to keep the Hogwarts students at the school and they all went into the village.

Both the Hog's Head and the Three Broomsticks did record business that day. Albert and the Flint brothers worked most of the day, although the Dumbledores made certain they all had time off to go mix with the other young people. The news on the wireless was also an attraction. Everyone wanted to know what was happening. Albert and the brothers wanted to be three places at once – listening to the news, helping the Dumbledores, and celebrating with friends. Professor Grubbly offered to take one of the temptations off their hands. She would not really feel like celebrating until she knew Flavius was safe. She offered to stay at the wireless and write notes in regard to any important announcements.

During a break from work Elijah Flint saw Adrianna Prince and ran over to give her a hug and kiss.

"What in the hell are you doing?" she demanded.

"Everyone's doing it. You could give Dan a kiss is you wanted."

"I've given up on your brother. What's his problem?"

"I'm not sure. I guess maybe your powers scare him. I mean, we haven't met anyone bad but he wonders what a bad person could do with those powers."

"And so he treats us all poorly?"

"You asked for my opinion. And I told you I was guessing. Dan treated you poorly? How?"

Adrianna paused, "No. I guess not. I just thought a muggle should be interested in me 'cause I'm special."

"You are special," the younger boy assured her. "If a witch ever said I was handsome I'd chase her."

The witch laughed. "You're a good kid. And you're a looker just like Daniel. If you were three years older I'd be chasing you. Hey, is Al around?"

"We're working. It's really busy today. I'm on break. You can go to the Hog's Head, but he's too busy to talk. I go back in half an hour and he's on break."

"I'll look for him."

Elijah looked thoughtful, "We've all missed seeing you around."

"Even Daniel?"

"Even Dan… It was always fun when you stopped by, we never knew what you were going to do."

Albert had a reminder of the unexpected about half an hour later when he was grabbed from behind, spun around and kissed hard before he could identify his attacker.

"What?" he panted when Adrianna broke the kiss.

She laughed, "Elijah said everyone's doing it. He gave me a kiss. I wouldn't kiss a muggle but–"

"You made an exception for me."

"You're not a muggle."

"What am I then?"

"You're a musician. Big difference."

"Well, as one musician to another, someone told me about the bakery making victory biscuits."

"They're selling out as fast as they could make them, at least earlier today. Want to queue up?"

"I'm buying?"

She patted him on the cheek, "Of course."

Adrianna had some news of Bertie and Zinc and brought him up-to-date as they waited in line. "When do you head back to London? I thought you'd be gone already."

"End of the school year. Here until June."

"We need to find Bunny. One last time out at Hufflepuff would be fun… You know, you might be as good as I am."

"I was about to say the same thing to you."

"Dreamer," she snorted. "Elijah said you missed me."

"Elijah said that?"

"He said you all missed me, that I brought fun into your miserable lives."

Al thought for a minute. "I don't know about the miserable lives, but yeah. We missed you. If Charlie was still on I'd ask you to come by and listen."

"Nothing to replace Charlie?"

"Well, some of the US shows are good."

"Give me a time. Maybe I'll surprise you. Do you still scream like a muggle?"

Not everyone took part in the general revelry. Victorian Leffington did not want every boy in the village grabbing her for a kiss and remained on the Oliphant porch watching the celebrants with a look of bored disdain.

_"Stuck up bitch,"_ Tom thought when he noticed her. _"She's a damn muggle and she acts like she's something."_ But she was a very pretty girl, and Tom found himself walking past the Oliphant home several times during the afternoon to look at her again.

Classes resumed the next day at both Hogwarts and the village school, but it would be several days before students were capable of absorbing any new knowledge.

A new moon fell on May 11th. On the night of Sunday the 13th the moon produced only a thin crescent of light and the village remained dark. Ogg left the Hog's Head early, he would need to be up at dawn on Monday. As he walked back through the dark lane he heard some sort of commotion nearby and decided to investigate. He was almost on top of them before he had an idea of what might be happening. There was a student from Hogwarts by the robe he wore – his back was to the huge gamekeeper. Ogg seldom ventured inside the school and wouldn't have known Tom Riddle by name even if he saw his face. Facing Riddle was Holly Evans. Ogg knew Holly from the number of times he had caught him places where he shouldn't have been in the forest. He didn't see the girl there on her knees, Holly blocked his view on the dark night, and didn't know the name of Victoria Leffington any more than he knew the name of Tom Riddle.

Ogg arrived in time to hear Riddle's _imperio_ curse, that brought an end to Holly's shouts of protest that had kept Riddle from hearing the approach of the big man. Ogg remained silent to hear what Tom was going to say. Despite his size the man could move quietly enough not to frighten unicorns. It was as he moved closer that he saw Victoria.

"Two muggles," Tom sneered. "I had plans for her. I don't know what I'll do with you. Maybe you'll be the one to blame for what happens to her… Maybe it is a good thing you came by, good for me anyway. I–"

A huge hand smashed down on Tom's shoulder, the shoulder for the arm holding the wand. Tom was knocked to the ground, but he kept a firm hold on his wand and rolled, pointing it to his attacker and firing off blinding curse.

"Don't recognize me, or don't believe the stories about old Ogg?" the gamekeeper said as he grabbed the front of Tom's robe with one hand and lifted the young man into the air.

Tom pointed his wand at the huge man, _"Imperio!"_

"And I told you. Curses don't affect… That's not true. They make me angry." Ogg shook the Hogwarts students, shook him hard.

Tom wondered if he could set the gamekeepers clothes on fire with an _incendio_ curse, but while it would work he feared that would only make him angrier.

"Take the spell off Holly," Ogg ordered.

"No, I–"

Ogg shook Riddle until his teeth rattled. "I gave you an order. Now!" He set Tom back on the ground. Riddle started to swing his wand back in the big man's direction and the giant knocked him to the ground again. "You're not one of the brighter students at the school are you? I said take the curse off."

Holly started talking as soon as the spell was taken off. Ogg held a hand up to quiet him, it was obvious what was happening when he arrived. "You were trying to stop him?"

"Yes."

"Seems to me a fight between someone with a wand and someone without isn't fair." Ogg looked at Riddle, "Give me your wand."

"No."

Ogg's right hand closed on Riddle's wand hand, squeezing until the boy winced with pain. "You keep giving me wrong answers." With his left hand he plucked the wand from Tom's grasp. "Let's see what happens on a level playing field."

Tom looked at Holly. He was taller than the village boy. He was better than the village boy. Holly was a muggle; they were inferior to wizards. Tom raised his fists.

"Back up," Ogg ordered Holly as Tom struggled to get back on his feet after being knocked down the second time. Tom's nose was bleeding badly when he went down the third time.

"I will kill you," Tom threatened as he rose from the ground again.

"No, you won't," Ogg told him. "But if you don't admit you're licked he'll beat you worse. Give up?"

"No! I–" Holly took a step towards the wizard and Riddle's shoulder's slumped. "I surrender."

"Now shake hands," Ogg ordered.

Tom would have gone another round before he would shake hands with Holly. Fortunately the village youth felt the same way. "I won't shake hands with him, not after what he did."

"Your choice," Ogg grunted and handed the wand back to Tom. "Fix your nose, if you can. Take the curse off the girl. Go back to school and think about what you're going to tell the headmaster after I see him. I'll see these two get home."

Vickie apparently remembered every word Tom had said to her. She put her arms around Holly, crying hysterically for several minutes as Ogg stood uncomfortably by. Holly put his arms around her. Holding her until Vickie regained her composure. "Thank you," the girl murmured, and kissed Holly.

"Best get you home," Ogg suggested when Vickie seemed back in control. She refused to let go of Holly and the two walked together, with Ogg following.

Mrs. Oliphant was outraged. She wanted something done.

"Imagine he'll get punished fierce back at the school," Ogg assured her. "He won't be back. If you look at Holly's knuckles the punishment started tonight."

"Not enough. Not for using an imperio curse. I want him arrested. I–"

"Please, no," Victoria begged.

"No?"

"No. I don't want to give evidence or testify or whatever I would have to do. I don't want to think about this. I don't want to remember this. Take it away. Please, take it all away."

"He should be punished."

"I don't want the memory."

"Will she forget what I did?" Holly asked. He'd never experienced a feeling like what happened when Vickie had kissed him.

"You saved me," she assured him, and hugged him.

"If you lose the memory of tonight you lose the memory of Holly saving you," her hostess warned.

"I'm sorry, Holly, but I don't want to remember this," Victoria told him, then kissed him tenderly.

Victoria forgot the evening, but Holly could not.

Tom thought furiously. He could ambush and kill Ogg when the large man returned to school… Could he even kill the gamekeeper? And he would have to kill Holly and Victoria as well. Perhaps the whole Oliphant household, he had no way of knowing how many people might know what happened. He had a black eye, bloody nose, and torn robe. He could claim he was attacked… But in a situation like that they were certain to use _veritaserum_. Did _veritaserum_ work on Ogg or was he immune to that in the same way he was immune to curses and spells? And, of course, it didn't matter. Ogg wanted the truth to be known.

Every plan he came up with had a good chance of a lifetime in Azkaban if not execution. There was a chance of life in Azakaban if they asked him too many questions while under the _veritaserum_. If he told the truth, or at least enough of the truth that Ogg couldn't contradict him, there was the chance of being sentenced to Azakaban. He didn't dare disagree with anything Ogg could say, but he could expand on and give his own interpretation to the half-blood's account.

He needed to talk with Headmaster Dippet first, present his story from a contrite heart and beg forgiveness. The headmaster liked him. He had done something he shouldn't, but realized it was wrong. He knew now it was wrong… Praise Ogg. Give credit to the gamekeeper for keeping him from doing something worse. Perhaps Ogg would even be flattered at the praise and not offer his own version of events – it wouldn't be necessary when Tom had already confessed to everything.

He needed to decide on what was safest to include in the confession. Of course he would not mention the fact he had staked out the Oliphant home for three days, waiting for a night when Vickie went outside alone.

He would not say what he planned to do with the girl before he was interrupted.

He would not say how his plans had changed when Holly intervened to try and help the girl.

If too much truth didn't put him in Azakaban for life it was enough for a broken wand, long sentence, and scrutiny by aurors for the rest of his life if he was ever released. Tom planned to severely limit how much truth he told.

"What happened to you?" Headmaster Dippet asked when he saw Tom's bruised face. "You've been in a fight?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Who did this to you? I'll have them arrested, this is an outrage."

"Actually, Sir, it was entirely my fault. I am grateful this is all that happened to me. I deserved much worse. The fight was a blessing."

"A blessing, being beaten black-and-blue?"

"Yes, Sir. Under the circumstances."

"What circumstances could make a beating a blessing?"

"I did something I shouldn't. Ogg stopped me–"

"Ogg did this to you?"

"No sir, Ogg… Perhaps I should start at the beginning. I wanted so much to test whether or not I could use an imperious curse effectively," Tom told the headmaster. "I shouldn't have. I knew I shouldn't, but I was so anxious I went into the village–"

"Why did you go into the village? Why didn't you just ask to practice on a fellow student here?"

"Pride I suppose. Pride or stupidity, perhaps a bit of both. I didn't want to admit to another student that I felt unsure of myself. Everyone tells me I'm the best student here, but I don't feel like the best. I know I have areas of weakness. So I wanted to practice the curse without it being known. I went into town and put the curse on the first person I saw. It was a muggle girl, one of the evacuees, and–"

"And Ogg saw you and stopped you?"

"If I might finish, Sir. Before I should use a memory charm and take off the imperious curse a village boy saw me, Holly Evans, and shouted at me to stop. I absolutely panicked, Sir. I shouldn't have been in the village. I shouldn't have been testing the imperious curse. My stupid pride again, Sir. Rather than admitting my error and taking my punishment like a man I put an imperious curse on Holly Evans as well. Ogg was in the village and came to investigate. I was still trying to decide what to do when Ogg arrived and ordered me to remove the curse."

"And the fight?"

"When I took the curse off the Evans boy he attacked me."

"He had no business hitting a Hogwarts student."

"He was entirely justified, Sir. I placed a forbidden curse on him."

"And Ogg didn't try to stop it?"

"No, Sir. He made certain the fight was fair. I believe he felt that, under the circumstances young Evans deserved a chance for revenge–"

"That's wrong," Dippet muttered.

"No, Sir. I am grateful to Ogg for stopping me, I had already committed acts I should not have. In my panicked state I could have done something even more dreadful. Young Evans had been put under an imperious curse, his anger was entirely justified. Had Ogg held me and let him hit me I would not be in a position to protest. As it is I am deeply mortified that I defended myself and struck the boy during the fight. I–"

"Was he hurt?"

"I don't believe he was hurt any worse than I."

"Where's Ogg? What happened to the Evans boy and the evacuee?"

"He told me that he planned to see them to their homes. He is very responsible, Sir. I am very grateful he stopped me when he did. In my panicked state I hate to think of what I might have done that moment to try and hide my crime. He stopped me before any permanent damage could be done."

"Yes, good man," The Headmaster muttered, his brain racing. Tom Riddle, the finest student Hogwarts had seen in decades in a scandal – another scandal after the dueling club fiasco in the fall. Tom needed to be punished; the forbidden curses were very serious. Albus Dumbledore must never hear about this. Dumbledore had been the leader of those who said Riddle should have received a stiffer punishment for the dueling club incident than he had received. The imperious curse, he was supposed to tell the aurors. No permanent damage done…"

After a moment of silence Tom coughed softly, "My punishment?"

"Um, punishment… Yes…" School was almost over. It was Riddle's last year, there were only a few weeks of class left. If he could keep the truth from Albus Dumbledore for another month Riddle would be gone and the girl evacuee back in London. "You know what you did was very, very wrong."

"Yes, Sir. The panic is over. I realize I could spend time in Azkaban for my actions. I am ready if you wish to contact the aurors."

Dippet sighed. "No, that is not my wish. My true wish is that this never happened, but it is too late for that. I don't want a scandal. There is so little school left… You will not leave the grounds of Hogwarts for any reason. If you do I will certainly tell the aurors of this night's actions. You will tell no one at school about this. I'm putting my neck out for you, Tom. I'm supposed to report this and I'll be in trouble if word gets out. I–"

"Should I resign as prefect?"

"No. I fought for you to remain prefect last fall. It would raise too many questions if you resigned now. I will require a paper on why the imperious curse is on the list of forbidden curses as well. Please, keep a low profile and graduate with honor. You worked very hard for years to be the top student at the school. I don't want to see that all thrown away on one act of stupidity."

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate you giving me another chance. This isn't the first time I've disappointed you, but it will be the last. I deeply regret my errors." _"You fool! It worked."_

Ogg had mixed emotions as he returned to his cottage. He'd struck a student. He was never to strike a student, even if he caught them poaching they were to be turned over to faculty for punishment. Some of them were the sons and daughters of people who could have him fired – even if the student were in the wrong. It also confirmed what so many thought was true of mixed-bloods, the accusation they couldn't hold their tempers. He always worked so hard to keep his temper in check and tonight he had let it get out of hand. He decided not to go to the castle that night. He'd think about it tonight rather than reporting the incident immediately.

Armando Dippet did not sleep well that evening. He had always believed students left Hogwarts both stronger in magic and better persons. Like the ancient Greeks he had tended to equate knowledge and virtue. The more you knew, the better a person you were. That was the purpose of a Hogwarts education, not simply to memorize spells from a book, but to improve yourself as an individual – to prepare yourself for a place of honor in the wizarding community. That preconception had shaped his reaction to students through the years. There were the intelligent, cheerful, hard-working students who he regarded as the cream of the crop and usually rose to high positions. There were lazy, rude dullards who only disrupted classrooms. Some of these students rose high in the community, but in the opinion of the headmaster it was usually because of their families' positions rather than the students' own ability. Most students were between the extremes. He knew there had been cheating, manipulative students who would lie to his face and ridicule him behind his back for being a fool or revile him if he assigned an appropriate punishment for their actions. He had trusted Tom Riddle, had always seen the lad's hard work as a sign of virtue. Perhaps it was the muggles who raised the boy who were to blame. _"Maybe my example of forgiveness will help him change his ways."_

Dippet wondered why Ogg did not come to see him, and went down to the gamekeeper's cottage the next day. The two went out to talk and stood looking across the lake to the village.

"Tom Riddle awakened me late last night."

"Oh?" Ogg didn't know the boy's name.

"He said you stopped him from committing a serious crime. Said he was grateful."

"Grateful? Didn't expect to hear that. Did he say what he was doing?"

"He told me he had used the imperious curse on two young people in the village."

"Yep," the mixed-blood grunted.

"He said the boy attacked him when the curse was removed, that you made sure it was a fair fight."

The gamekeeper shrugged, "Close enough."

"I'm not sure what I should do. He committed a crime. He knows he committed a crime and expects to be punished. I don't want a scandal… He says no permanent damage to either villager."

"Don't believe so."

"Know if either wants to bring charges?"

"I know she doesn't. Just wanted to get it out of her head. Don't know about him. He'd probably worry about the story hurting her if it came out."

"There are only a few weeks of school, then he's gone. He has been a good student. He knows he did wrong. He asked to be punished, said he recognized Azkaban could be his punishment. I'd rather not have a student sent there, hurts the school. He said he was grateful you stopped him. I'd like the punishments I assigned to end the matter. But I wasn't there. What do you think?"

Ogg sighed, "I just saw the end. The student… Riddle you said?"

"Yes."

"He was threatening them with–"

"He said he panicked, didn't know what to do."

It had sounded to Ogg like the young man knew exactly what he was doing, but the gamekeeper didn't read minds. "I don't know what was in his head. You said this is his last year?"

"Yes. What do you think would be appropriate?"

The big man shrugged, "I'm just a gamekeeper. You're headmaster. I'll trust you."

"A crime was committed. I know that and can't condone it. You stopped it from becoming an even greater crime. I am hoping his repentance is genuine and that the incident will not be mentioned again."

"Hope so too," Ogg grunted. "That's that?"

"Yes, thank you."

The Coalition Government ended on May 23. Churchill remained as interim Prime Minister until a general election, the first since 1935, could be held in July.

In late May Flavius Plank arrived back in Britain. He had lost weight. There had been no attempt to starve POWs, but with average German civilians and the German army hungry from food shortages neither had there been any effort to give the prisoners extra food. Flavius was given a month before he needed to report back to his unit for his next physical. The doctor who examined him suggested eating as much as possible, light exercise, and fresh air. Flavius intended to fill the prescription at his father's farm

The fight between Flavius and Wilhimina began as soon as he returned . He had signed on for the duration and intended to fly against Japan after he recovered.

She pointed out that he had far more than the required number of missions to stay out of combat. He had flown his missions. He had been shot down. He had spent months as a prisoner of war. It was time for others to risk their lives.

He was one of the most experienced pilots in the service, that gave him an edge in surviving to the end of the war.

She pointed out that he had been one of the RAF's most experienced pilots when the Germans shot him down. He had enjoyed a long string of good luck which ended when his plane went down. He should be grateful he hadn't died and not tempt fate.

The unspoken arguments were even more important than the spoken, and almost ended the engagement before it was even official. Wilhimina wanted a life partner, not a master. If Flavius would not listen to her now he would not listen to her later. In her school days she had found Flavius and his friends stubborn and selfish – demanding that others listen to them and never bothering to listen to others. She now knew he could be tender and charming, but worried that the stubborn and selfish remained firmly in place under the charming veneer.

Flavius was still not certain what he wanted in a wife. He had usually dated girls and women who swooned for his dimples and did what he asked. His father, Augustus, was a fair man but clearly the head of the household – or at least that was the image he projected to the community and his family. Flavius's mother was very good about not correcting her husband in public, although in the privacy of their home she lectured him on mistakes he made that required correction. Flavius found Wilhimina infinitely more interesting than the women he usually saw, but was also coming to realize that a woman with a brain expected to be able to use it and speak her mind.

"Flav, I love you. But I won't marry you until the war is over and you're safe. I won't even say we're engaged if you're going back into combat."

"Even though I've already told Sam he's not invited to the wedding?"

She almost smiled, "No. No engagement until you're out of uniform."

He winked at her, "I'll take it off right this minute if you want."

The offer angered her. "I'm being serious!"

"Sorry. It just seemed like a good line at the time. There is no guarantee I'll have a long life even if I request a transfer from a combat assignment. I could be hit by a streetcar in London before I even return to my unit."

"Do you stand on the tracks waiting to see how close the streetcar will get before you jump off?"

"No, that would be stupid."

She nodded her head. "That's my point."

"I don't see–"

"No. You don't," she snapped and walked out.

Because of classes Flavius couldn't see her the next day. He waited at the Hog's Head until closing, but she didn't come back to her room. Professor Grubbly needed time alone to think, and that was something that wasn't easy when Flavius smiled at her. She felt vaguely selfish for what she was asking of him. She was proud he wanted to serve his country. But he had already done his share. He had done more than his share. It was not his duty to be killed. His duty was to serve. He had served, been shot down, and endured months of captivity. It was someone else's turn now.

Flavius took the train to London the next day and requested transfer to a non-combat position, training or flying in equipment. He was told that with his record and time in prison he could receive a ground job if he wanted, perhaps even leave the service. He answered he had not joined the RAF to remain on the ground and had signed on for the duration. But his fiancée wanted him safe.

"Flying in equipment isn't always safe."

"I know, but there's still less ack-ack and fewer enemy planes."

"We'll keep you in the air then. Think that will be good enough for her?"

"I hope so, Sir."

He spent the night in London with friends, then took the train back to Hogsmeade the next day.

His mother had been equally worried about him. He omitted the offer for a ground job when he told her of his transfer request. She was delighted. He hoped Wilhimina would be equally happy, if he could find her.

Wilhimina was at the Hog's Head that night. Before he could speak she wanted one thing clear. "I love you, and I'll wait for you. You have to do what you believe is right. I just want you to be safe. Please don't stand on the streetcar tracks."

"Would it make any difference if I asked for a non-combat assignment 'til the end of the war?"

"It would make me very happy. But I told you, I know it's your choice."

"I was in London yesterday. I put in the request. There're no guarantees but–"

Anything else he meant to say was cut off by her lips on his.

A few minutes later Eleanor Dumbledore caught them trying to sneak up the back stairs to Wilhimina's room. Ellie gave them a knowing look and Professor Grubbly blushed like a teenager and stammered, "We're going to… take a walk. Yes, a walk by the lake and I wanted to change clothes… No, I mean I needed… My wand, I needed my wand and…"

"Flavius, you may wait in the kitchen if you wish while Wilhimina searches for her wand. Or you may help her look for it. You're both adults. Should anyone ask for you I'll tell them you are helping Professor Grubbly with her wand problem."

"Wait in the kitchen, Flav," Wilhimina sighed. "I just remembered where I left my wand." _"I'll bet this is why mother wants me staying here."_

The moon was beautiful, reflecting off the ripples of the lake, although the two spent very little time looking at the lake. A fleeting thought went through Flavius's head, while Willy was in a good mood would be a good time to say he wanted Sam Wells as his best man. On the other hand, he enjoyed having her in his arms and his tongue in her mouth and didn't want to risk any injury to her mood. If Ellie hadn't caught them he might have gotten out of uniform that evening.

Everyone knew Ravenclaw's strategy before the last quidditch game of the year was played. Their seeker would try to distract the less experienced Slytherian seeker until Ravenclaw built up enough points that the capture of the snitch would give them the house cup – with only a single win. Theoretically they could even lose, but if they had enough points they'd win the house cup. The fact it was possible for a team with a single win to take the cup over teams with two wins ignited the old debate over whether the scoring rules needed to be changed.

The originality of Gryffindor's plan a year earlier had been a factor in the success of the strategy. With everyone knowing Ravenclaw's plan in advance the Slytherin keeper had been practicing hard with two players trying to distract him constantly. The training paid off, with Slytherin's seeker being able to ignore Ravenclaw's and capture the snitch, giving Slytherin a win. The Gryffindors in the stands cheered wildly for Slytherin, since their victory gave the house cup to Gryffindor.

Late June would find Hogsmeade with a smaller population than it had known for years.

Tom Riddle wanted to leave for the continent. He wanted to make contacts with wizards from other countries, learn from them, and perhaps take advantage of the chaos for his own benefit in various ways. He didn't have enough money to launch his trip, and since Britain's auror system had survived the war intact it was in better state to hunt wizard criminals than he hoped to find on the continent, he took a job at Borgin and Burke's until he could scrape cash together to start his journey.

Adrianna Prince planned another year at Hogwarts. The night before the final Hogwart's banquet she found the window open on the top floor of the Hog's Head. Even Daniel gave her a hug and the four talked for hours before she returned to Slytherin.

A going home party was held for the evacuees at the Three Broomsticks the night before the muggles were scheduled to return to London. The host families attended as well. Julian Pilliwickle delivered a long and dull speech about the privacy the village cherished. Stories were shared by both hosts and evacuees and tears were shed as the party went into the early morning hours.

Squints, Rabbit, and Bones returned to London. Whitey stayed on at the Hart farm. Like Blackie he had no real home and had not heard from his parents in years. Pericles needed hired men and Whitey knew the work. The Harts, who had been unable to have children of their own, had come to regard the Dicks almost as their sons and were delighted he would stay.

Portia Higgs predicted that Shirley and Judy would become screen stars when people saw their talent. Mary Fisk stayed with Portia. The old witch had two daughters, but both were married and settled at a distance from Hogsmeade. The girl, who had lost both her parents, had become like a granddaughter to the old woman.

Victoria Leffington wanted to return to civilization, which most certainly could not be found at Hogsmeade, as quickly as possible. Holly Evans offered to ride into London with her and help her with bags, trunks, or whatever she needed carried. She thanked him for the offer, but she wanted to take nothing from Hogsmeade. Once in London she would buy new things and didn't need the reminders of the last few years. She vaguely wondered why he had been so attentive the last few weeks.

Holly was not an evacuee, of course, but he felt like there was nothing for him in Hogsmeade. He would move to London as soon as he could, find a job, and Victoria would fall in love with him.

Eleanor rode the train to London with the Flint brothers and Albert. She wanted to meet their parents, and they wanted to meet her. She planned on staying a few days in the city and would eat Sabbath dinner with the Goldsteins.

Rubeus Hagrid was not an evacuee either and would remain at the village. He felt sorry for Mary, having lost both her parents in the war, and felt guilty for feeling happy she would remain in the village.

Two days after the evacuees returned to London, and before Eleanor's return, Julian stopped at the Hog's Head for a pint in the mid-afternoon.

"Imagine your job will be a lot easier now," Abe commented as he polished a glass.

"I'm sure it will… Expect more mail than there used to be though. Suspect some of the evacuees will write letters to hosts, at least for a awhile."

"Imagine you're right. Probably drop off in time though."

There were several minutes of silence as Julian took a few sips of ale and Aberforth continued to polish glasses. The village postmaster spoke again. "You remember I wasn't enthusiastic when some of you said we should host evacuees."

"I remember. I thought you did a good job as billeting officer despite your reservations."

"Thanks."

"Why did you bring that up?"

"I was just thinking, the village seems kind of empty without them. I think I'll miss the muggles."

"I think we all will. Here, let me refill that for you – on the house for the job you did."

* * *

You will see both May 7th and May 8th as the day Germany surrendered. Surrender is not a one-minute affair, some parts were completed on May 7th, it was officially accepted on May 8th, and some Germans didn't recognize the end of hostilities until May 9th. VE Day, Victory Europe Day, is observed on May 7th in some countries and May 8th in others.

I've read US pilots could retire from combat flying after thirty missions. (But bombardier Joseph Heller claimed they lied - see Catch 22.) Odds were estimated at 3 to 1 against a pilot living to complete thirty. I've not read the RAF made a similar offer so applying the US rules could be completely inaccurate.


	18. The King is Dead, Long Live the Queen

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. However, a story set years earlier will lack some characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack checked for canon, departures are my own. I used her understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore for his background.

**The King Is Dead, Long Live the Queen**

The war was over, but it would take years for the economy to sort itself out and for the damage of war that could be restored to be repaired. Some damage, of course, could never be repaired. As particular items became more plentiful they were taken off the list of rationed goods, but it would be the mid-50s before all rationing ended.

Churchill's Conservatives lost badly in the first general election in ten years. Servius Fudge met with Clement Attlee to introduce himself to the skeptical new Prime Minister, but the conversation was kept to a short promise that the wizard would be in touch if anything of importance arose and Attlee wondered about the security breach which had allowed a madman entry to his office.

The RAF told Flavius he was not ready to return to service at his physical in July and offered a discharge if he desired one. He didn't take the discharge, although the offer was tempting. The Americans were moving more quickly than many had expected and as resources were freed up from the fight against Hitler there was hope the US could end the Asian war soon.

As Flavius discussed wedding plans with Wilhimina he had a request, "Sam Wells is my best friend. I know he gave Anne trouble back in school. I think he's matured… Do you think I've matured?"

"You have."

"So, it's theoretically possible that Sam might have matured too?"

Professor Grubbly hesitated, "I can't rule out the possibility, but the fact a theory exists doesn't mean the evidence supports it."

"Then the hypothesis should be tested. How about we ask Sam and Anne to dinner. Here, London, wherever, and Anne can decide for herself if Sam should be allowed in the wedding party."

"I suppose… And either Anne or I can say no?"

"I leave the power in your merciful hands."

She sighed, "Tell Sam to be on his best behavior."

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?"

"If he's simply on best behavior at the dinner you can't be sure he'll behave at the wedding. But if his normal behavior is good then you can trust him at the wedding."

"You have the wisdom of Solomon," Wilhimina laughed.

"Can I have nine hundred wives like Solomon?"

"No, you are allowed only one."

"Then I'd better pick wisely," he replied and pulled her onto his lap.

In August Jasper Maskelyne awoke with a headache, an all too common occurrence. His friends and family thought he drank too much, and were probably right. The evening before had seemed very real, but was so peculiar he suspected it was a dream of some sort brought on by intoxication. Maskelyne was a respected magician. He knew every organization for magicians in Britain and the larger ones in countries around the world. He didn't recognize any of the men calling themselves wizards who hailed him as a guest of honor the night before, where everyone kept serving him drinks.

They had claimed they were honoring him for his work during the war, which was curious because most of his work remained classified. Maskelyne wanted his work declassified. He and his unit had worked damn hard and pulled off the largest illusions any stage magician had ever pulled off. He wanted his country to know what he'd done. He and some man he'd never heard of, Dumblebore or something like that, were being honored with the Order of Merlin, which once again Maskelyne had never heard of. But the wizards told him he was the first muggle, whatever that was, to receive the honor. Dumblebore had saved the King, or England, or Churchill – the problem was not the alcohol Jasper had consumed at that point but the hyperbole of the man making the introductions made it unclear. Maskelyne had never heard of Dumblebore or what he might have done to deserve a special award, but then Dumblebore's efforts to serve the country might be classified also.

Maskelyne stumbled into the bathroom for a couple aspirin to help with the headache, then headed back for more sleep. He had missed it earlier because of the headache, but there by the bed lay the gold medal he had been presented the night before.

Augusta Madley wed Richard Longbottom on the same weekend that Wilhimina Grubbly married Flavius Plank. To the shock of Anne Wildman, Samuel Wells asked her out for a drink following the ceremony. And to the greater shock of her friend, Wilhimina Grubbly-Plank, Anne accepted the invitation.

As Portia had predicted both Shirley and Judy went in films. Shirley would leave after a few years for a 'normal' life. Judy's talent would be drained by studio executives more vicious than the stereotype of vampires. She was given drugs to help keep her awake during filming, and drugs to help her sleep at night.

The Flint brothers received General Certificates but couldn't afford to go further in school. Carpenters were in demand for repair work around the city. Daniel and Elijah learned fast and their father had cards printed reading, "Flint Custom Cabinet Making and Woodwork."

To his father's dismay Elijah insisted on staying with the same colors and styles of clothing he had adopted during the war years. It seemed to bring in some customers who were equally addicted to dressing differently from the normal Londoner – not that more customers were necessary. It seemed that every home in London wanted work done. Even if a building had suffered no damage in the war its general maintenance had been a low priority for six years and there was work to be done everywhere.

To the dismay of Victoria Leffinton the end of the war did not mean that shops were magically filled with new goods and fashions. She had to borrow clothes from her mother and wear whatever beastly left-over clothing she could find at the second-hand shops for several weeks after leaving all her clothes at Hogsmeade in anticipation of an orgy of buying.

Her mother proposed a shopping trip for the two of them in New York. Her father put his foot down; he had not seen his daughter in years and wouldn't have the two of them running off to America the minute she came back. His wife said he could come with them. He said there was too much to do. The two of them would jolly well stay in London for at least six months while he got to know his daughter again.

There was work to do, and Victoria's father did not have time to become as reacquainted with his daughter as he wanted. Perhaps it is just as well, he would have found her terribly shallow. With the war coming to an end the military work which dominated the economy would end. The Leffington factory could collapse or adapt, and he had no intention of letting it collapse. The Oxford types predicted a huge rise in the number of babies. The equipment for manufacturing prams had not been melted as scrap and he planned to reopen and expand the line. The firm had done well manufacturing instrumentation for planes during the war. There would be less call for planes, but automobile manufacturing had ended during the war and the public was hungry for new autos. Automobiles would need dash instruments. He could visualize the ads, on the left the instrument panel of a fighter plane, on the right a picture of the dashboard in a luxury sedan. 'The same instruments that won the war are yours when you sit behind the wheel…' But bringing the pram business back on line and converting to auto instruments – and contacting the auto manufacturers to sell them on the idea – kept him working fourteen-hour days.

Bread was rationed in 1946. It had been one of the few items not rationed during the war, but continued shortages after the war added it to the items still limited.

"You want me in officer school" Blackie asked in disbelief. "If I may speak freely, Sir, you're nuts."

"You always speak freely," his CO told him. "Irritating as hell sometimes, but I appreciate it. Cigarette?"

"Thanks."

"You get things done. We work well together. You told me you want to stay in the army. I'm plan on going places, and I want officers I know and trust under me."

Blackie exhaled a puff of smoke, "Thanks, won't let you down."

"I know you won't. That's why I put you in for officer training. Think you can lose the Blackie while you're there?"

"Part of my charm," the sergeant grinned. "'Sides, seven Edwards in the unit. Easier to stay Blackie."

Hollyhock Evans moved to London. With no particular training he obtained a menial job at the Leffington pram factory and waited for Victoria to return from America with her mother.

1947 saw the marriage of Princess Elizabeth to Philip Mountbatten.

Daniel Flint obtained his license in plumbing. There was a lot of work to do and the family was establishing a fine reputation in the trade. Daniel might have been old enough to move out on his own, but there were housing shortages and he stayed with his parents. Elijah frequented a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. His mother thought he was too young, but he said he did it for the company and stayed with non-alcoholic drinks. Flint Custom Cabinetry had more calls for work than they could handle and Elijah convinced his father to hire some workers he'd met at the Cauldron. They were able to produce amazing results in their work – but never when Elijah's father was watching.

Albert Goldstein mentioned Flint Custom Cabinetry to anyone he heard in need of work. Al saw the Flint brothers as much as their mutual schedules allowed. "Father wants me in law school after I finish A-Levels," he told them.

"Keeping up with the clarinet?"

"Do fish swim?"

The brothers learned to not ask if he had any new records. He always had new records and would go into more detail than they wanted to know.

Victoria Leffington made it clear she wanted nothing to do with a workman in one of her father's factories. When Holly refused to accept the fact he was sacked. Heartbroken he returned to Hogsmeade.

Rubeus Hagrid was a frequent visitor at the Higgs home. Mary enjoyed his company and he was always welcome, but the huge young man was like a brother to her. His feelings towards her were warmer, but he was terribly shy and didn't express himself. He was also afraid of frightening her. He would settle for helping her in the garden or the occasional trip to Little Easely. Perhaps in time she would grow to see him in a new way.

Portia Higgs could see Hagrid's interest in Mary even if Mary could not see it. She liked the young man, even if he had no prospects. The old witch admired his strength of character and gentle spirit. Portia could also tell that Mary was interested in Holly Evans. When Holly had returned to the village in a dark mood Mary had been over every day to try and cheer him up. Holly, depressed and angry, was even less aware of Mary's feelings than Mary was aware of Hagrid's feelings. Stifled by the confines of the tiny village Holly didn't stay long. After three months in Hogsmeade he moved to Glasgow, looking for anything to give him purpose and take away the feeling of disappointment.

In Portia's mind Holly had no more prospects than Rubeus Hagrid, and he was burdened with a wild spirit that Mary didn't have the strength to tame. If something happened to break Holly's spirit Mary might be able to put the pieces together. But that was a large if. Holly might drift through life, rootless and rebellious. Rubeus was steady and would make a devoted husband. The old witch hoped the mixed-blood developed the courage to speak up for himself or that Mary recognized the young man's strength of character and love on her own.

The Olympics were held in London in 1948, the first since Hitler's 1936 Berlin extravaganza. The second London Olympics were a somewhat subdued affair. National Olympic committees were urged to bring the food their athletes needed with them to London because of the continuing shortages.

Despite opposition in the medical community Bevans managed to steer National Health Care into law, allowing Squints to obtain the glasses he needed. Squints became devoted to the Labor Party and over the years would become more involved in politics.

Although Squints could read easily now he had not developed the habit of reading for pleasure as a child and could never do it for enjoyment. For the present his dream consisted of becoming a machinist.

'Porky' left the nickname behind while in New Zealand. The only one of the Dicks to actually be named Richard he was happy to give up the Porky. At the end of his hitch in the Navy he chose to remain in paradise rather than returning to England. Marriage to the only daughter of a sheep rancher may have been part of what made it paradise. Among their close friends was the auror who monitored the former evacuee's tales of Britain. Richard and his wife didn't even realize the couple were from the wizarding community. The auror periodically reminded himself he was not simply spying; he had a genuine affection for the muggle couple. Richard was erratic as a letter writer, but the Harts could count on two or three letters a year from him with updates of his life, and usually a reminder, "Sheep are far more stupid than cattle." To his wife's amusement he always signed the letters 'Porky', but she never used the nickname for him.

Rabbit's family could help little in the way of money for higher education, but he stayed with his parents, found whatever work he could, and was admitted to the University College of London where he studied English Literature.

Elijah Flint obtained his license as an electrician. His father took out a loan to purchase more equipment and expand the services they offered. The family business changed its name to Flint Construction and the larger payroll included more wizards brought in by Elijah.

Albert became an atheist after seeing the pictures from the German death camps and meeting survivors. It started any number of fights with his father. "How can you believe God exists if he allows six million Jews to be killed?"

"You can't blame God for the evil men do."

"If God existed he would have done something."

"You don't know what God might have been doing throughout the war."

"How many of the cousins in Poland survived?"

Albert's mother hoped it was a phase he would grow out of. Albert didn't try to push his views onto his younger sister, played nicely with his three-year-old brother, and continued to worship with the family and celebrate the Sabbath. It was always her husband who brought up the subject. She finally told him privately that he needed to drop the arguments. It wasn't good to fight in front of the younger children. Al loved his family and his father should not push him away.

Unable to find anything which satisfied him in Glasgow the autumn saw Holly Evans make another short return to Hogsmeade before trying his luck in Leeds.

Clothes rationing ended in 1949. Albert's parents decided that BBC television was not a passing fad and purchased their first set

Bones moved to Birmingham to find work. Alice Hart received a few Christmas cards over the years from the last of the Dicks, but then he faded from sight. The war years were the past and he put the memories behind him to concentrate on the present.

"I think we should do a job with no profit," Elijah told his father at supper.

"No profit? Are you daft, lad… Is it for the church?"

"It's for a private club. I was asked if we could do work for them… I don't want us to make a penny on this."

"A private club, and no profit. There must be a story."

Elijah sighed, "I didn't want to tell you this story, but I need to. Please don't say anything about this to anyone." Daniel tensed, wondering how he could stop his brother. He did not want anyone using a memory spell on his parents. "You remember Dan needed a cane when we evacuated. Fresh air and exercise might have been part of what helped him, but the Dumbledores knew a physician. They hired him to work with Dan – vitamins and therapy. They didn't want thanks. They weren't doing it for thanks. They were doing it simply to help Dan. They were happy if you just gave thanks to God for helping restore Dan's leg. I found out the physician belongs to a club that asked us to do some work. I don't want a penny for being foreman on the project. I don't think the firm should make any profit on the job. If I ever find a way to do something for the Dumbledores I want to do that, but this is a chance to do something for the physician."

"I need to send a letter to Eleanor, thanking her and Aberforth for–"

"No, mother," Daniel told her. "Elijah is right. The Dumbledores didn't want us to tell you what they did. They acted from pure charity – wanting to help others with no credit to themselves. It would embarrass them for you to send a letter, and it would embarrass Elijah and me because it means we can't keep a secret." He turned to his father, "But he's right. We shouldn't make any profit on this."

His father nodded, "I'm willing to lose money on this job. Just don't make a habit of it. And if you can ever invite the doctor fellow by… No. Best not. Your mother and I would gush thanks all over him. And let's not forget the hand of God in all this, bringing you to people with hearts as great as the Dumbledores and guiding the physician."

"Amen," Daniel murmured.

"Oh," Elijah added. "Even if we don't make money on the club, I'm guessing we make contacts for work from the members."

Later, when Elijah had a chance to speak to Daniel alone he added a little more to the story. "They asked me to electrocute the building."

"Electrocute?"

"They meant electrify. It has got to be the last club in London without electricity."

"And George Fletcher is a member?"

"Yes. There are Flints who are members."

"Really?"

"I think that's why they asked us to do the work. I'm going to try and meet one of them and see if we're related."

The wizarding Flints were no apparent relation, and were even embarrassed by the fact the contractors renovating the club bore the same last name. They made it clear they wanted nothing to do with the brothers.

During renovations the brothers learned of house elves. They were horrified at the discovery, considering the creatures to be held in slavery. Only talking with several of the elves and being assured by all of them they enjoyed their positions did the brothers grudgingly add it to their list of secrets to be kept.

At the end of the renovations George Fletcher put their names before the Directors for possible membership. Confusion over family name helped make the invitation unanimous. The initial invitation found Daniel hesitant, but he gave in to Elijah's enthusiasm. After joining, however, Daniel had an idea.

"We'll be able to use one of the club rooms for a party, if we book in advance?"

"Yes... What party are you thinking about?"

"Next year will be ten years since the evacuation. I think we should have a reunion."

Mary Fisk began working at the Evans Bakery, hoping that when Holly returned he would spend more time with her.

1950 saw the end of rationing for petrol and soap.

In Hogsmeade seventeen year old Boadicca Grunnion informed her mother that she was pregnant, and named Whitey as the father. When Whitey and Pericles brought the cattle in that evening Alice Hart stood on the back porch and shouted for them to get into the house as soon as possible. Whitey's stomach knotted when he saw the Grunnion family sitting on chairs in the Hart parlor. "You told me you knew a contraception spell," he hissed when told the news.

"I do," Boadicca told him cheerfully to her mother's horror, "but I didn't say I'd use it."

When the minister asked him to repeat, "I, Alan, take thee, Boadicca" some of the Grunnions nudged each other, wondering who this Alan fellow was. Ten years after arriving in Hogsmeade and all claiming to have Richard as a first name the villagers had forgotten the Dicks had any names other than the ones Pericles had given them.

Seven months after the wedding Boadicca had a daughter who, despite being two months premature, was fully developed and a healthy weight.

Elijah became acquainted with the auror's office while trying to locate addresses of all the evacuees. The aurors had a list of all the evacuees, with addresses, and told him who had undergone memory alteration. The witch he was talking with suggested he not invite anyone whose memory had been altered. About fifty of the evacuees hoped to attend the reunion. Elijah also sent invitations to a number of host families and some of the villagers who had been children ten years earlier.

Eleanor Dumbledore was among the hosts who traveled to London for the reunion. Judy and Shirley sent regrets for not attending, but they feared it would draw publicity they knew their former hosts would not like. Alice Oliphant attended, and spent all of her time in whispered conversation with Vera until the two of them slipped away from the reunion early. Everyone who remained declared the reunion a great success and asked Elijah to accept the responsibility of organizing another.

Silvia Stone was Elijah's age. She had returned home in 1942, but still attended the reunion. As people began to leave from the reunion Daniel asked her out to the cinema. She accepted, and within three months the two were seeing each other on a regular basis.

After finishing A Levels Albert was admitted to King's College to study law, with the view of becoming a solicitor.

George VI, a man who had not planned on being king but who managed the job well through years of crisis, passed away in 1952. In Kenya the Mau Mau rebellion began. Lieutenant Blackie, as his men referred to him, did not ask political questions about the rights of the British to force their will on the natives or whether the Kikuyu had legitimate complaints. The fighting was long and brutal, with the Mau Mau killing even more of their own people than the Brits. Blackie held the rank of captain at the end of the fighting, which saw a large number of concessions to native demands.

Al and three of his classmates headed to Soho one day after classes in search of entertainment. As they passed a club the marquee outside caught Al's attention, the featured band on the sign was 'Bunny and the Hoppers'. He went to stare at the photograph on the poster and recognized a familiar face.

Al sat nervously at the club bar that night waiting for Bunny and his band to take the stage. The heavy drummer was about to introduce their first number when someone shouted, "Do you still do 'Making Whoopee' and 'Der Führer's Face'?"

The wizard looked startled and yelled, "Who said that?"

"I did."

With the club area much darker than the stage Bunny couldn't see the speaker. "Get a light on him," he shouted to the man running the spots.

Al stood, and the man on lights had no trouble finding him. Bunny laughed, "It's my old friend, Al the Wonder Yid. Al, get up here."

As Albert went to the stage Bunny told the audience, "Al was in my first band. We were evacuees up north during the war. God, I was just a kid then."

"You're still a kid," the old black man at the piano growled as Al reached the stage.

Bunny did introductions, "Al, that's Methuselah over on the keys. He's a leftover from before the flood. What are you doing these days?"

Given how Bunny had addressed him Al went with an exaggerated Yiddish sounding accent, "Oy, mine vatter has me in law school."

"One thing the country doesn't need," Bunny sighed, "more Jews in law school. What we need are more Jews who play a hot stick. You should have stuck with music."

"Did you?" Al asked.

Bunny assumed a mock look of outrage, "I have a band."

Al shrugged, "You know what they call a man who hangs around with musicians?"

"What?"

"A drummer."

The audience had been laughing through all the exchange so Bunny addressed the audience and continued for another minute. "The band we had. God, our agent would book us anywhere: dances, church receptions, weddings–"

"Bar Mitzvahs," Al interrupted, "brisses–"

"Bris?" Bunny demanded, "What's a bris?"

Al stepped over and held up his left hand, as if he were whispering into Bunny's ear and didn't want the audience to read his lips. With his right hand he made an exaggerated gesture of pointing to his crotch.

The drummer's eyes went wide and the audience howled.

"Remind me to check out the end of your stick," Bunny muttered as Al stepped back.

"I'm keeping my stick to myself," Al told him and left the stage.

Most of the audience thought it had been part of the act. Bunny called to one of the bouncers, "Tom, don't let him out of here. Put his drinks on my tab."

At the end of the set Bunny and the trombone player headed for Al. Bunny grabbed the bar stool by Al and waved the trombone player away, "Just an old friend, don't worry," he told the band member. The trombonist reluctantly moved away. "Boyfriend," Bunny whispered, "and the jealous type."

"He could have sat down."

"Wanted to give you a head's up. He doesn't know."

"That you're queer? If he's your boyfriend he probably suspects."

"Doesn't know about Hogwarts. Doesn't know about magic."

"In the closet, huh?"

"Exactly. You really in law school?"

"Yep, my Jewish father's dream."

"You say it like it isn't yours."

"Watching you up on the stage tonight, God, I wish I could have been up there with you."

"So why are you in law school?"

Al held up his right hand and rubbed his thumb over his fingers in a gesture that indicated 'money'.

"You want it, or your dad is paying your way and gets to tell you what to do?" the drummer asked for clarification.

"Mostly the second. Hey, do you know what happened to the rest of the group?"

"You're the only one who dropped out of sight. Everyone in England knows Judy. Bertie's finishing up at the Royal College of Surgeons, hopes for residency down here in London. Brass is–"

"When did Zinc graduate to Brass?"

"When he printed his own business cards." Bunny reached into a pocket and pulled out an engraved pasteboard card – Alistair 'Brass' Savage: When you want the best in talent. "Damn fine agent."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Handles all kinds of entertainment acts, professional quidditch players…"

"Professional quidditch? Really?"

"Yep, represents several. He won't touch models though – afraid someone will think he's a ponce or something… You still play?"

"Yeh."

"Stick player gets sick or something and they need someone to sit in for a night or two, they give Brass a call. Want to do lunch with him and me next week? You can tell him you're interested. A night here and there shouldn't interrupt your studies."

"Man, that would be great."

Bunny took out a pen and added his phone number to the card before passing it to Al.

"Sometimes when Judy has a day off she calls Zinc to find out where I am and sings with us."

"Zinc doesn't handle her, does he?"

"No, but he'd love to."

"Adrianna?"

Bunny sighed, "Not sure where she is right now. That last year, when the Prince's Men didn't play, remember there was an all-witch swing band one month?"

"I remember you or Adrianna talking about them."

"She joined them a couple years after she left Hogwarts, off on a round-the-world tour with them."

"Sounds wonderful."

"Sounds damn terrible."

"What?"

"They're only playing to wizarding audiences. Not enough of us to support a band like that: travel expenses and living expenses mean they're making no money."

"Why limit themselves to wizard audiences. You obviously don't."

"You know a little bit about wizards because of the evacuation. Normally muggles don't visit Hogsmeade. There are wizards and witches comfortable in both worlds. There are wizards and witches who don't mind muggles, but are so used to doing things with magic that they're ignorant about muggle ways of doing things. And then there are the wizards and witches who take pride in their ignorance of muggle ways to demonstrate we're different. They see it as a badge of honor to be out of touch with–"

Al laughed, "Jewish wizards."

"What? They aren't–"

"Hasidic wizards."

"You've lost me."

"You're all Jews. You–"

"No we aren't!"

"Listen. There are Jews who're in both worlds. Ask me if I'm British or Jewish and you're blind. I'm both. Then you've got Jews who have no objection to the larger society, but are still out of touch. That's probably my father. And then you've got the Hasidic Jews, with the funny hats, black coats and peyes–"

"Peyes?"

"The side curls. The Jews who take pride in looking as different as they can from gentiles and look like they got stuck in the eighteenth century."

"Damn. You're right. So, are all Jews wizards or all wizards Jews? 'Cause it sounds like we're the same."

"Yeah," Al laughed. "Hey, you were telling me about Adrianna."

"Right. Just too many Hasidic wizards in the community. No interest in muggle music. They won't be able to get large enough audiences of wizards and witches who appreciate swing and jazz to cover expenses. Last I heard she was in Canada, but that was a couple months ago. I figure the band probably went broke and she's stuck somewhere like Australia."

"There are wizards in Australia?"

"We're everywhere."

"You really are Jews."

Brass looked prosperous, and Al suspected it was real and not just for show, when he treated the two to lunch at the Lamb and Flag.

"You're certain?" the agent asked Al as they discussed the possibility of the clarinet player being available on short notice to fill in with a band in need. "I don't know how often you'd work – but you can count on it going late."

Al shrugged, "I've gone to classes sleepy before. Been a couple times I didn't make it out of bed. I don't care if the work is irregular, I just want back up on stage."

Zinc stuck out his hand, "Welcome to Savage Talent."

Bunny's guess about the fate of the all-witch swing band was accurate, even if he misjudged where it would go belly up. Adrianna and the other survivors straggled back to England in the late fall. Two of them gave up on the band, but Adrianna and the others worked on bookings and raising money for another tour – blaming the former leader rather than the size of the audiences for the failure. The Slytherin grew discouraged by the lack of progress on getting the all-witch band back on tour.

In her will Portia Higgs directed that her home be sold and all money in her estate be divided evenly among her two daughters and Mary. The older daughter, the one who seldom visited, protested that Mary wasn't family and deserved nothing. The younger daughter, who visited fairly often, told her older sister to shut up. Mary had taken care of Portia for the last few years and was family by action if not by blood.

The next few months were chaos for Mary.

Mrs. Evans announced she was moving to the United States to live with her oldest son and put the bakery up for sale. Mary wondered if she would be able to procure a loan and buy the building, but while she hesitated it was sold to a wizard named Honeyduke who planned to open a sweet shop.

Mary confessed her fears to Rubeus Hagrid. She wasn't sure what to do, or if she had any reason to stay in Hogsmeade.

"You could marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me," Hagrid asked. "I… Well… I mean, you don't know what to do, or where to go… I…"

"You're very sweet," she assured him and kissed him on the cheek. "You belong here, I don't. I've always felt out of place here. I–"

"I don't think you're out of place."

She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, "It's how I feel. You're my best friend, but I've never thought about marriage, marriage to you anyway. I want to get out and see the country. This is so sudden. Maybe there's something out there for me. Maybe I'll go out and realize I need you and come back and accept… If you still want me then."

"I'll always want you," he promised.

"Always is a long time," she said and put an arm around him.

"Just don't end up like Holly," he warned. "Always in and out of the village… One of those birds Noah sent out after the flood, came back to the ark 'cause there was no place for it to put its foot down. That's Holly. Don't suppose he'll ever be back to the village now, not with his mum moving and all."

Holly was back to help his mother pack before she left. Every time Mary saw him in the days before the move her stomach felt so tight she thought she was going to be ill. Rubeus was right. Holly would move on. She might never see him again.

Holly went out to the woods with Rubeus to say goodbye to Firenze on his last full day in the village. Tomorrow he would help his mother load her trunks onto the express and be gone.

"Where will you go?" Mary asked. The two were sitting out behind the bakery, staring up at the stars.

"I don't know."

"What will you do?"

"I don't know."

"What do you want to do?"

There was a long pause. "I don't know… I want to be happy. I know I want to be happy. I'm not sure if I know how to be happy. I keep going places, trying things… I… I don't know."

"Happiness is having someone to share your life with."

Holly snorted, "Thought that once. Stupid idea. Loved Vickie and–"

"You didn't love Vickie. You had a crush on her. Was that why you moved to London? Your mum never gave me the full story. I said happiness is _sharing_ your life with someone. Vickie never shared anything."

Holly almost argued. Instead he shrugged. "Yeah. Probably." There were several minutes of silence. "What are you going to do? Going to apply for a job at Honeyduke's?"

"No… Hard to be a muggle here in Hogsmeade. Mrs. Higgs left me some money. Your mom taught me to bake. I'm going to Manchester, cousins there. Try to get a job in a bakery. Maybe I'll be able to open my own shop someday."

"Well… Good luck; sounds like you know what you want to do with yourself. Hope you can be happy."

"I can't be happy. Not without someone to share my life with."

"Yeah, well good luck with–"

Mary took a deep breath, "Come with me."

"What?"

"Come with me." The words poured out in a torrent. "You don't know where you're going. You don't know what you want to do. You said it yourself. Come with me. We can do it together. I don't want to be alone. You don't have to be alone. Please, Holly, come with me. We can find a place. We can–"

He put a hand on her mouth. "I don't know what to–"

She pulled his hand away. She had calmed down slightly. "Think about it, please. Don't take the express tomorrow. We can do this."

"It sounded like you were proposing something… This business, like the rabbit pelts or…"

"I'm proposing the two of us being together."

"I don't know… I've never settled down. I don't know if I can settle down. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"You've never settled down because you never had someone to settle down with. Don't leave tomorrow with your mum."

"When are you leaving for–"

"Three days."

Since the night years earlier when he had defended Vickie from Tom Riddle Holly had never experienced as much emotional uncertainty as he felt that moment. He didn't take the train with his mother the next day. It was wrong to lead Mary on. He'd never make her happy. And yet, for the first time in seven years he felt like he might be happy some day.

Early in 1953 Al told Brass, "If you can get me a full-time job with a band, I'll take it."

"Leaving law school?"

"Yeah."

"Your dad won't like that."

"I know. He cut me off without a penny… At least until I realize the error of my ways and want to go back to school. He loves me, just thinks music is a poor choice for a career. Got anything for me?"

Zinc hesitated, "Not anything for you at the moment. Don't know when something good will open up."

"Not anything for me? What do you mean, when something good will open up?"

"Got two bands wanting clarinet players now. You're my friend, I wouldn't want you in either one."

"Why not?"

"These two are always looking for new musicians. There's a reason they can't hold on to good players. The pay stinks and the band leaders are pricks."

"I'll take either one."

"You should wait."

"Told you, dad cut me off when I told him my plans, but the rent for my little flat is still due."

"Okay," Zinc sighed. "The one offering more money, but the leader is the nastier sod; or the one that pays less but the leader can be half-way decent when he's sober?"

"I'll take the sod. Bank account is empty."

"Don't know how long you'll be stuck there, but when I find something better for you I'll know you can handle anything."

Al spent the next several months working in clubs with connections to Jack Spot. Brass had told him the truth, but he actually saved a little money and knew the agent would find him a better situation when one arose. His father spoke to him little on Friday evenings at Sabbath dinner, still hoping that Al would fail as a musician and see the need to return to law school.

In 1953 Queen Elizabeth received her official coronation. The end of sweet rationing may have brought equal joy to the general population and the dentists of Britain.

Adrianna joined Al, Bunny, Bertie, and Brass in celebrating after the coronation. Bunny and his boyfriend had broken up over charges from the trombone player that the drummer didn't trust him enough. Bertie's fiancée trusted him. And each of Zinc's girlfriends had other dates. From her years of unprofitable touring Adrianna had picked up a high toleration for alcohol and she was in much better shape than any of the others when they emerged from the pub where they'd been drinking for hours. She helped get them into a taxi and handed Al a present, "Here, nice bottle of brandy," before giving the cabbie Bertie's address as the place to deliver the men.

If Al had been sober he might have asked where the bottle had suddenly come from. Instead he accepted it happily.

Then, as a good citizen, Adrianna found a bobby and reported what she had seen.

In the back of the taxi Al was unable to open the bottle Adrianna had given to them. He passed it to Brass, who had equally little luck.

"Doesn' e'en feel lika bottl'," the agent slurred.

"Gimme," Bunny requested. Brass was right, it didn't feel like a bottle, it felt more like a policeman's helmet. The drummer started to giggle, wondering what kind of liquor would come in a bottle shaped like a policeman's helmet. In fact, the thing no longer even looked like a bottle. He placed the stylish chapeau on Bertie's head.

Two constables, who were waiting on the curb for their arrival did not find the story that they thought the bobby's helmet was a bottle of something to drink convincing. The four spent the night in a crowded cell with others who had partied well but not wisely.

The magistrate gave them each a ten pound fine and a warning. Bertie paid Al's fine.

"Beware of Slytherin women," Bunny warned Al as they left the court.

A few weeks later Brass knew someone, who knew someone, who found a place for Al in a BBC studio orchestra. A lot of the work was dull and repetitious, but the pay was decent, the job secure, and it allowed him to work clubs in the evenings when the opportunity arose

All rationing came to an end in 1954, and commercial television went on the air. Daniel and Elijah appeared in the adverts for Flint Construction. Color was still largely an experiment and the commercials were in black and white, but the style of Elijah's garb, in contrast with the solid workingman's outfit worn by Daniel, was still enough to convey a bit of humor to muggle viewers and served to tell wizards or witches that Flint Construction did work for wizards as well as muggles.

Daniel's wife, Silvia, who worked as receptionist for Flint Construction, could identify some potential customers when the came in the door and knew they would need to speak with the one of the brothers rather than their father. Some even insisted on speaking only with Elijah.

Rabbit took his degree in English Lit and found a job at a boarding school. It wasn't one of the prestigious schools, but at least it wasn't one of the dumping grounds for boys whose parents simply wanted to send them away.

Holly and Mary slowly adjusted to life together. He valued his independence too much for marriage to be welcome, but he adjusted. They both worked, and Mary took on more of the chores around the flat than her fair share. His father had left, and Holly had grown up seeing his mother do everything around their home in Hogsmeade and assumed Mary knew and performed the expected woman's work around the home. When she finally accused him of not doing his share they had a terrible row, but he finally realized he wasn't doing enough and tried harder.

Mary found work in a bakery. Holly found whatever work he could. The inheritance from Portia remained untouched in the bank, drawing interest, as they added to it as they could and waited for the opportunity to buy a shop of their own.

Elijah did not ask his girlfriend to attend the evacuee reunion in 1955 with him. She accused him of being ashamed of her. He said he was being considerate; they'd be talking about people and things that meant nothing to her. She replied that when he and Daniel talked about their evacuee years it always sounded like they were in some sort of magical world where everything was beautiful and the people kind and caring. He replied it had all been strange and wonderful to a trainload of London children, who couldn't tell a cow from a chicken when they arrived. She countered she would still like to meet the other evacuees. He confessed he was a selfish sod, he thought she would be bored and hang on his elbow and keep him from talking with his friends from the war years. She accused him of thinking she wasn't capable of meeting new people and being jealous and possessive. He countered with the offer of a very nice dinner at an expensive restaurant, just the two of them, if she dropped the subject. She came back with a demand for two. He agreed to a second – but it couldn't be as expensive as the first. She accepted the offer, with the condition she be allowed to pick the expensive restaurant.

In 1956 All the Prince's Men released their first LP, War Years. Most of the musicians were from the Hoppers, and all the arrangements were by Bunny. But the Hoppers were a dance band and the album was mostly hard bop with some tentative experimentation with modal jazz. Although unaccredited on the album cover the piano solo on side two was performed by one of London's brightest young surgeons. To everyone's relief Brass excused himself when he was offered a part, saying his lip was out of shape. While not a huge commercial success War Years turned a small profit and received glowing critical reviews.

After the final recording session in the studio for War Years the musicians went out to a club. The club was noisy and Adrianna and Albert left early to talk at his flat and catch up on news about the other's life. They talked for most of an hour. They kissed for about half an hour. They shared a cigarette after sex and apologized to each other.

"Shouldn't have done that," she said as he took a drag.

"Why not?" he asked, handing her the cigarette.

She blew a smoke ring in the air. "You're a muggle," she reminded him and handed the cigarette back.

"Well, I shouldn't be having sex with you," he pointed out, and took another puff. "It would kill my father."

He handed the cigarette back. "Why?" she asked and inhaled the tobacco smoke. "He really think you should stay a virgin 'til marriage?"

Al shrugged, "Probably. At least wants to imagine it. He thinks I shouldn't have sex with a Jewish girl, because it would ruin her. And I can't have sex with a non-Jewish girl, because that would ruin me."

Adrianna blew a smoke ring in the air and laughed, "Tell him you're queer, then when he finds out you slept with me it won't sound so bad."

He laughed and blew his own stream of smoke into the air. "I don't know what happened tonight, but…"

"But not going to happen again," she assured him. "We just got a little out of control with the work on the record done. That's all it was."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I'm sure as hell not interested in a muggle, and you sound like too much of a momma's boy to handle a witch like me."

"Hey, I–"

"You know it's true. At least this was nice, even if it won't happen again."

"Yeah, it was," he agreed.

Since she was already there and they were in bed she spent the night. And since they knew they'd never make love again they had sex again in the morning and shared another cigarette.

It was two days before he called and asked her out to dinner. He walked her to her flat from the tube. The simple good night kiss on the sidewalk before she went in didn't seem to end.

"Your place," she panted when their lips finally parted.

"But–"

"I've got flat mates," she reminded him.

The next morning, before she left, they promised each other it would never happen again.

It was four days until they were back in his bed. Her head was lying on his shoulder, his left arm around her, as they shared a smoke. "It's just sex," she told him, wanting him to disagree with her.

His arm tightened slightly around her, bringing a smile to her lips, "You really think so?"

"You're a muggle, remember? And I'm not… What the hell difference does it matter that I'm not Jewish? You said you're an atheist."

"Yeah, but I'm Jewish."

"You're Jewish, and an atheist?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't you supposed to believe in Moses or something?"

"Being Jewish isn't about what you believe, it's about who you are. You think Hitler cared what people believed? You could be a priest, but if your parents were Jewish you were going into an oven. I'm Jewish. I'm part of the community. It's how I see my identity… If you became a nun would you stop being a witch?"

"That's just stupid."

"See, you know that you would still be–"

"No, dummy, me becoming a nun is just stupid. You can't stop being Jewish?"

"If I say I'm a Christian the community won't recognize me, but–"

"They recognize you as Jewish even if you say you're an atheist?"

"Yeah, as long as I identify myself as Jewish."

"And it's that important to you?"

"It's as important to me as your being a witch is to you. It's who I am."

Adrianna fell silent.

They didn't have sex when they saw each other the next time. Adrianna wanted to talk, and the conversation went into the early morning hours. She was trying to understand Judaism.

She yawned about one, "I don't speak muggle. Maybe that's the problem. I wish there were Jewish wizards and witches for me to–"

"There are."

"Jewish wizards? How do you know that?"

"I know some."

"Really? I thought you were the only Jew in the Hogsmeade evacuees."

"I was. There's a Jewish wizard family in the city, the Honigs. Probably some others too, but I met them during the war."

She asked for directions to the shop, and asked if she could sleep on the couch that night. He offered to behave in bed, but she didn't trust either one of them. He offered to take the couch himself, but she told him to take the bed.

He called Thursday to ask her to Sabbath dinner with his parents on Friday night. "I told my parents I'm seeing someone. They want to meet you."

"Even though I'm not Jewish."

"I try to be honest with my parents. I don't always do what they want, but I'm honest with them. I want you to meet them."

"What exactly did you tell them about me?"

"Not much. I met you while I was an evacuee. You play the saxophone. I'm seeing you…"

"That's all you said?"

"I'm trying to understand what's going on. This is strange to me. Will you come with me?"

"No."

"No? I want you to meet my parents?"

"I'll meet them. But I'm having Sabbath dinner with the Honigs tomorrow."

"What?"

"I stopped at the shop. I had a lot of questions, so he asked if wanted to come to dinner tomorrow. I accepted."

Zinc found Adrianna a fill-in position with a house band and she had to work on several Friday nights after that. She and Al saw less of each other for a couple weeks. Although the house-band ended their sets before the headliners came on she usually stayed around until closing, and slept in until after he had left for the BBC. He came to hear her on a Wednesday. They had a couple drinks after she finished, then returned to his place. They both knew they'd end up in the bedroom, but she pointed to the couch, "Talk first."

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, just sit."

There was a minute of uncomfortable silence. Something was clearly on her mind, and he wasn't certain what she wanted to talk about. It worried him. Finally she told him, "I'm converting."

"Converting?"

"Yes."

"To what?"

"Judaism."

"What?"

"I. am. converting. to. Judaism."

"You're converting to Judaism?"

She sighed, "Did your ears quit or you're suffering brain damage? I just said it."

"I don't understand."

"I've been talking with the Honigs, been at services a couple times with them. He's trying to discourage me, says I don't understand what it means. He's probably right. She says you lost six million and should welcome–"

Al put a hand over her mouth. "You're serious?" With his fingers still covering her lips she nodded yes. "Then you say 'we lost six million'." He took his hand away, but before she could say anything he kissed her.

"Now, what are you supposed to say to me?" she asked at the end of the kiss.

"I love you," he told her, and his lips moved towards hers again.

She put her hand over his face, "While that is all very sweet," she pretended to punch him in the stomach, "it's the wrong answer."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"You're supposed to ask me to marry you."

"Okay, will you marry me?" He reached for her again.

Once again her hand went up to his face, holding him off. "I didn't say yes. I have one condition."

"What now? I can't convert and become a wizard."

"That's not the condition."

The suspicion was obvious in his voice, "What is the condition?"

"I don't want to give up my name, I want to stay Prince."

He shrugged, "Unusual, but I won't complain. I've know a couple women who kept their names."

"Um, I'm afraid you don't quite get it. I want you to change your name. When you marry me you become a Prince."

"What?"

"Marriage is about compromise. I'm going to become a Jew for you. I want you to become a Prince for me."

Al thought for a minute, then shrugged. "If you put it that way, I have to… And you're putting up with me being a muggle."

"I told you years ago, you aren't a muggle, you're a musician."

They kissed. "When I'm with you I feel like a king."

"That is very gallant, my liege, but Prince will suffice."

"Can you say that again?"

"Say what?"

"Call me your liege."

"Sorry, no. Once is funny. Say it again and it might go to your head and you'd believe it."

"Being married to you will always be an adventure."

"You got a problem with that?"

"No, just stating the obvious." He broke the next kiss suddenly, "Hey, for the rest of my life people are going to call me Prince Albert!"

"You just noticed that now?" she laughed, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

He stopped complaining.

Tobias Snape, who worked with Eileen Prince, proposed and she accepted. It was not so much a marriage of love for either as it was a recognition of social expectations. In a later era they both might have been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome or HFA. They did their jobs well, and did not relate terribly well to others. The Snape family had been hit hard by the Great Depression and Tobias had grown up in poverty. He continued to live as if poor, banking every penny in case hard times came again. The Depression had not been as hard on the Princes, but Eileen had started earning paychecks during the war when there was nothing to buy and had developed a frugal lifestyle as well. Although marriage represented a change in routine, and neither did well with changes of routine, men and women were expected to marry. Their lives would continue on very much as before – living very cheaply – but now there would only be one rent to pay and even more money in the bank.

Elijah Flint was asked to sit on the Board of Directors of the Wand Club, and assigned to the committee on building maintenance when he accepted. While a small number of muggles had been members over the long life of the club he was the first to sit on the Board, and one of the younger Directors ever to serve.

Armando Dippet retired as headmaster of Hogwarts in 1957. He had done his best to put the name of Brutus Poppins forward as a replacement. The Governors agreed that Poppins would do a fine job, but they wanted Dumbledore.

Brutus Poppins resigned from the faculty of Hogwarts a year later to assume duties as the head of the American school of wizardry in Rhode Island.

"I hope you're not leaving because Armando campaigned for you and I received the position," Albus told him when Brutus informed him of his plans. "I wish you'd stay. I need you here."

"The Yanks contacted me and it seemed like a good time to go – let you start putting in the faculty of your choice."

Albus suspected Brutus was not being honest. The Americans were unlikely to have asked him to come if he had not applied for the position. "And if you were part of the faculty of my choice?"

"I'm flattered. But this is an opportunity for me."

"I wish you weren't going, but I wish you well. You know if you ever need anything you can call on me."

"Thanks, Albus. And I hope you know I'll do what I can if you ever need me."

Dumbledore smiled, "I'm certain of that."

"Oh, just thought of one thing."

"What?"

"Any idea how I can get them to play a proper game of quidditch over there?"

Albus laughed, "That would take a greater wizard than I."

The wedding of Albert and Adrianna Prince reflected traditional Jewish customs, modern Jewish observance, and unique elements. The ceremony under the chuppah was entirely traditional. Some who were invited to the wedding didn't come, because there would be mixed dancing at the party afterward and they did not approve of men and women dancing together. And no one there had ever been to a wedding where, after one dance together, the bride and groom picked up their instruments and joined the band performing the music.

Although the band was entirely gentile, other than the newlyweds, they performed the klezmer tunes beautifully. If the trumpet player wasn't at the same level as the rest of the musicians he played well enough that none of the guests knew the difference. And in addition to the traditional Jewish tunes for Al's family and the modern dance music for the friends of the bride and groom, the pianist played some classical waltzes the older guests appreciated. During breaks between numbers the trumpet player handed out business cards.

Mr. and Mrs. Goldstein sat at the head table and watched Al and Adrianna with the band. Their daughter was on the dance floor enjoying herself and their younger son was chatting up a girl and trying to work up the nerve to ask her to dance.

"They're very happy," Al's mother told her husband.

"What? Solicitors can't be happy?"

"You know he would never be as happy as a solicitor as he is a musician."

He sighed, "There's still Benjamin."

"And you should support him in what he wants to do instead of deciding for him. You and Al fought for years and what good did it do you?"

Her husband remained silent for a minute, looking at his son and daughter-in-law with the band. Finally he confessed, "They do make beautiful music together."

She smiled and patted him on the hand. I knew you would say that some day. Now, let's dance."

* * *

The war ended about chapter 13 in my original outline. Following my OCs during the post war years was planned for chapters 14-19. While writing I realized the events at Hogwarts were more important to readers than the space I had allocated for them and the Hogwarts portions were expanded. I also realized that the lives of my OCs, while fascinating to me, might hold less charm for readers. Although chapter 20 remains very much as originally planned I've cut whole scenes I had imagined – such as a memory charm being required when Elijah Flint's wife learned too much and Squints running for Parliament. Many of the scenes that are still here, especially those with Mary and Holly, have been trimmed to sketches of what happened rather than being developed in detail

I wrote Albert's grandfather came from Russia, but his cousins were in Poland. In the 18th century Prussia, Austria, and Russia divided up Poland. After World War I a new Poland was created, largely from land taken from Russia. (One of the reasons Stalin felt a right to hegemony over Eastern Europe was the fact much of it was on old Russian territory.) So while Albert's grandfather had fled Russia – pre World War I – the family that remained behind was in Poland after WWI.

A bris, brit milah, is the ritual circumcision of a baby boy when he is eight days old.

The phrase 'in the closet' for gays probably originated in the 1950s, so the use here might be anachronistic or might be appropriate. Queer in reference to sexual orientation, usually in a pejorative sense, goes back to at least the 1920s

Jack Spot was one of London's more notorious gangsters in the 1950s.

I can guess why Rowling named Salem as the location for the major American school of wizardry but it makes no sense. Rhode Island, the most tolerant of the colonies would have been the location.


	19. A Witch in the Family

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from J K Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School of Wizardry. It should be obvious, however, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack served as canon checker, any departures are my own. In addition she furnished me with her particular understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used as the background in this story.

**A Witch in the Family  
**

In addition to the public celebration of the grand opening of the Flower Bakery by Holly and Mary Evans the couple had a private celebration of their own in their flat over their new shop. The public celebration resulted in good publicity and steady customers for the bakery. The private celebration resulted Mary informing Holly a few weeks later, "I'm pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, the Doctor was sure. I'll take his word, but it does explain the morning sickness."

It took few minutes for the enormity of the situation to sink in. That night, as they lay in bed, she asked, "Too early to start picking out names?"

"Probably. But if we hear boy names we like we should remember them."

"Just boy names?"

"It'll be a boy. That was the curse."

"Boys are curses?"

"Couple generations back someone angered a very powerful wizard. Great-grandfather would just have sons, and they'd all be squibs. All his descendants, and their descendants, would be sons, and there wouldn't be a wizard in the family until a daughter was born. It's why I'm a muggle. There are some distant Evans cousins who're wizards, but my grandfather, my dad and brothers – nothing. Dad counted as a muggle. Mom was a squib, and the non-wizard child of a squib is just a muggle."

"Don't say 'just a muggle'," she scolded. "I happen to love muggles."

"Hope you love sons, 'cause that's all we can have."

Life became easier for the Princes when Adrianna got a job with the BBC studio orchestra also. They had joined the synagogue where the Jewish wizards worshiped. His father didn't complain, it sounded like Albert was in services more regularly. His mother was perhaps more of a trial through her frequent requests for information on when she would become a grandmother.

Petunia was born in early 1958. Holly had trouble containing his pride and wrote to cousins who were affected by the curse, more distant cousins who were outside the curse, and former neighbors who knew of the family curse, informing them that the family curse had finally been lifted.

Holly, of course, was born too many years after the curse for details to be clear. Could Petunia be a witch? He wasn't certain. Holly and Mary with both muggles. Perhaps Petunia would be a muggle too. Perhaps any children they had would be muggles. I didn't matter. For the first time in three generations a daughter had been born. His mother even found the courage to buy a ticket on a plane and fly the Atlantic to stay with them for three weeks and help Mary with the baby.

In the summer of 1959 Mrs. Filch took the train to London to plead with her son Argus to return to Hogwarts and help her. Her arthritis kept her from doing the work she needed to do. Argus suggested she retire, knowing his plea was pointless even as the words left his lips. His mother lived for Hogwarts; it was her life. To retire would kill her.

"Please," she begged, "what do you have here?"

The question cut. He was superintendent of a large block of flats. It wasn't glamorous. It didn't pay well and would have been called a dead end job. But he had his privacy. He didn't have obnoxious and smug little wizards and witches snickering at him behind his back. "I like it here. I do my job well."

"Please, Argus."

He returned to Hogwarts two weeks before the students arrived for the new school year.

When Holly Evans saw his second daughter's eyes he told Mary, "She's a witch."

"She's a baby. It's too soon to know."

"She's got the green, Evans' green. She's a witch." Mary was still in the hospital bed. Holly came to stand beside her. "She's beautiful… I don't know what I'd have done without you. Whether she's a witch or not… God, I love you so much."

"Even though I'm not pretty?"

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

Mary drifted back to sleep with a smile on her lips. Holly stood beside the bed for a few minutes watching her. He couldn't live without her. He hoped she realized that.

Armando Dippet had planned to write up a memoir of his time at Hogwarts during retirement, but died with nothing more than the roughest of outlines and a few anecdotes scribbled on various scraps of paper.

George 'Rabbit' Wheeler returned home in the evening from a long day of trying to impress the beauty of their native language on boys with a singular lack of appreciation for their native language and any beauty not possessing a large bust size.

"Your friend is in the study," his wife called from the kitchen when he came in the house.

_"What friend?"_ George wondered.

The green clothing and bowler suggested something about of the identity of his visitor.

"An auror of some sort?" the teacher asked. "I don't know you, although my wife seems to think I do. Memory charm?"

"Exactly. Made it easier to wait here for you. You know why I'm here."

"Actually, I don't. In the very broadest terms I can guess it relates to my time as an evacuee. However… I don't believe I caught your name."

"Sorry," the young man responded and stuck out his hand, "Fudge, Cornelius Fudge. Oh, and I'm a bit curious about the name 'Rabbit' in your file."

"Nickname while I was in the village. Now, the reason you're here?"

"Your book, we heard about it."

"Ah, wanting a copy?"

Fudge looked angry, "You can't go writing books about witches! I'm surprised it got as far as it did before someone noticed and told me to take care of the matter."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is there a problem?"

"Are you daft, man? You can't go writing a book about witches and wizards."

"There are no wizards in the book."

"You're missing the point."

"No, you're missing the point. Care for a glass of sherry as we clear up the matter?"

"No, I don't want a glass of sherry, I need to do a major memory adjustment on you, and I'd like you to tell me where your notes and manuscript is so I don't have to tear your house up looking for them."

"And all the other books out there with witches and wizards? The books that are published and sitting on library shelves, do you mean to tell me the authors don't know what they've written?"

"What books are you talking about?"

"_The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ by Lewis for one. Is there a problem with that?"

"I don't think I know that book."

"It's an allegory of Jesus. What about _The Lord of the Rings_ by Tolkein? There are wizards running around all through that book. _The Hobbit_ also – and a talking dragon in that one."

"Hobbit? What's a Hobbit?"

"It's some sort of small person in a novel. And, of course there are all those stories of Merlin… By the way, was there a real Merlin?"

"Of course, but I'm missing your point."

"The point is that the wizarding community is part of our folklore. Wizards, witches, dragons, flying broomsticks, and magic wands are familiar to every child. But people believe its all the stuff of fairy tales – and no more real than fairies."

Fudge saw no reason to correct Rabbit's view of fairies. "Aren't those books by muggles?"

"I would assume so. And if you haven't noticed, I'm a muggle."

"Yes, but you lived in Hogsmeade during the war. You know witches and wizards."

"But I certainly didn't put the truth into my little mystery. Wendy Witch is your standard folklore witch, old woman who potters about in her garden and also helps the local police solve crimes with her magic. All fiction, the sorts of things everyone knows and doesn't believe already."

"Look, I was sent here to erase a problem. It isn't my job to evaluate the book. I–"

"Whose job is it? Has anyone read my book? It hasn't been published, but clearly someone heard about it."

"Well, yes. A squib in the publishing firm heard the title and reported it to a wizard in his family."

"So no one has read it?"

"No."

"Well, shouldn't someone read it before you waste a great deal of time and muck up my memory?"

"I… Um…" Fudge fell silent, clearly thinking.

"Ah, the horns of a dilemma," Rabbit sighed. "If you never show any initiative you will remain a low level functionary and never go anywhere. If you show too much initiative you are labeled a troublemaker and will never go anywhere either."

Fudge nodded grimly, "Sounds like you know the Ministry of Magic very well."

"Don't know it at all. Politics out at the school where I teach. Sure you won't have the glass of sherry?"

"Thank you. Think I will. What do you propose?"

George gestured to a chair in the study as he went to the sideboard and poured two glasses. He handed the wizard a glass and took another chair.

"I have a galley proof of _Wendy Witch and the Withered Willow_ I can give you. Give it a read. I'd like an opinion from a wizard, by the way. I think you'll find it entirely innocent. Mention those other muggle novels to your superiors and make your recommendation, I think–"

Fudge pulled a fountain pen from his pocket, "Could you give me some of those other titles, please?"

"Certainly."

Fudge left a half hour later, his briefcase heavy with the galley proof. A week later he submitted a report recommending that no action be taken. There were so many errors in the book, at least in regard to actual wizarding life, that readers would learn nothing to compromise the privacy of the community. He had another glass of sherry with Rabbit when he brought the news that the recommendation had been accepted, but suggested any future books with witches be cleared in advance.

Most of those who attended the 1960 evacuee reunion at the Wand Club brought pictures of children to share with others and talk about how easy their children had it in comparison with what the evacuees had endured dominated the discussion. Later in the year a Liverpool band which had performed for a few years under a number of names would settle on The Beatles.

Pericles Hart died of cancer in 1961. It spread quickly, perhaps a blessing in ending his pain sooner. The six evacuees had been in awe of his amazing strength, but he was reduced to a shadow of himself at the time of death. Alice asked Whitey and his family to move into the farmhouse to provide her with company. The muggle had been working with Pericles as much as for him for several years that the transition in running the farm was smooth.

All the Prince's Men third LP, Peace and Plenty, brought them an invitation to the revived Newport Jazz Festival in 1962. Although Bunny had used the name simply for a studio band to play some of his experiments Newport was too good an opportunity to ignore and the invitation was accepted. To the chagrin of Adrianna many of the jazz fans they met imagined Albert Prince was the leader. Free jazz tended to be more popular with European audiences than American audiences, but the Newport crowd was appreciative. The Prince's Men/Hoppers met many of the greats in the jazz scene in person, and to their great amazement were told by many that they knew and regarded the three albums as jazz classics.

Petunia Evans was not a happy child. Her mother and father tried to give equal attention to both their daughters, but Petunia was older and felt she deserved more. And when they met people… They were always talking about Lily's eyes. Lily's eyes were strange – too green. And they said bad things about Petunia. They called her a curse-breaker. Petunia wasn't exactly sure what that meant. But she knew curses were bad. Her mother scolded her father sometimes and told him not to curse if he burned himself taking something from the oven. And breaking things was bad. Petunia didn't know how you could even break words. It didn't matter. She hadn't broken anything, but they said she cursed and broke things.

The scariest moment in Petunia's life was when her mother and father had taken her and Lily to some peculiar village. There was a huge man, as big as a mountain. He had swung Petunia up on his shoulder. She was terrified and tangled her fingers in his hair, holding on for dear life and screaming while the huge man laughed and told her nothing bad would happen. Finally her father had lifted the frightened child off the huge man's shoulder and set her back on the ground.

The huge man brought a man with a long, gray beard with him to meet Petunia's parents that night. The man with the long beard looked at Lily a great deal and spoke with Mary and Holly about Lily and something called Hogwarts. It seemed to excite her parents a great deal. "Hogwarts sounds dreadful," Petunia told the adults. "I hope I don't catch it."

The adults all laughed. "Hogwarts is the name of a school," Mary told her daughter.

"A great school," the huge man told the girl.

"I'm hoping Lily can go there," Holly explained. "Some of your ancestors attended years ago, but we haven't had an Evans there, at least our branch, for many years."

Suddenly the idea of Hogwarts sounded attractive, especially if it was something Lily might be able to do and if it pleased her parents. "May I go too?" Petunia asked excitedly. "May I?"

"Hogwarts is a very special school," the man with the gray beard warned. "Not everyone can go. I'm not certain if your sister might be allowed to attend or not."

"I don't care if Lily goes or not. I'm the oldest. May I go, Please?"

Petunia threw a temper tantrum on being told she would not be able to attend.

Ogg died in the spring of 1965. It might or might not have been coincidence that Tom Riddle, who had been going back and forth between the continent and Britain for years, moved back after Ogg's death. There was no formal request for Rubeus Hagrid to continue the stewardship of game and grounds, the big man might even have been offended by a formal request. Everyone on the Board of Governors assumed the job was his by right after having done it alongside Ogg for years, and everyone knew Albus Dumbledore would fight for his friend if anyone had dared raise the question whether anyone else should be considered.

The Princes sat by Holly and Mary at the reunion that summer. "So, four marriages from the evacuation to Hogsmeade?" Mary commented.

"Four?" Al asked. "We're two, and Dan and Silvia make three. Who's the fourth?"

"You forgot Whitey and his wife?"

"Oh, right. They don't come to the reunions. Elijah needs to mimeograph a list of where everyone is."

"Actually, it's five couples because of the evacuation," Adrianna corrected. "But they're not married."

"Who?" Holly wanted to know.

"Vera and Alice Oliphant, they–"

"I heard they share a boutique, but–" Mary protested.

"They share a lot more than just a boutique from what I hear," Adrianna told them. "I was talking to one of Alice's cousins. Alice designs clothes, has some stuck-up friend who shops there and–"

"Probably Vickie," Mary interrupted. "Anyone know what husband she's on?"

"Do you mean her own, or another woman's husband she's been on?" Albert asked.

Adrianna laughed, "Vera paints. Alice is no Mary Quant, and Vera is no Bridget Riley, but they're doing well."

They talked about their families. Holly felt certain Lily would attend Hogwarts. Mary said it didn't matter to her, as long as Lily was happy. Albert told Holly and Mary that the Jewish wizarding community was already trying to decide who Ariel and Aaron should marry when they grew up.

"Do you know Aaron is a wizard?" Holly asked.

"Too soon to tell," Adrianna shrugged. "Probably. The fact Ariel is a witch means he probably is."

Later in the conversation Adrianna questioned Mary, "The Flower Bakery is in Manchester, right?"

"Yes."

"What neighborhood? My sister and her husband are in Cokeworth. I don't get up to see them very often."

"Cokeworth? We're in Spinner's End, practically in Cokeworth. I wonder if they come into the bakery."

"Probably not. Eileen is a bit odd, and he's worse. Fresh bread and sweets are needless luxuries, probably live on stale crusts and water–"

"Poor?"

"Shouldn't be. They've got to have a pile in the bank – they certainly never spend tuppence if they don't have to. Their Severus is Lily's age, they might end up at Hogwarts together."

Mary turned to her husband, "Do you know Eileen or…" She looked at Adrianna, "What's her husband's name? When did he attend Hogwarts?"

"Tobias Snape. He's a muggle."

"Not sure if I'd know Eileen if I saw her," Holly confessed. "There were a lot of students at Hogwarts I wouldn't know."

"I think the only times I saw her were when she came to the Hog's Head," Al told him. "I played out at the dances but don't really remember seeing her there."

"Was she at your wedding?"

"No, she was invited, but she didn't come. She's so off in her own world I didn't see it like she was angry with me for becoming Jewish or anything."

Late in 1965 Major Blackie and his unit left Southern Rhodesia when the white minority government of Ian Smith declared unilateral independence in protest of British policy supporting majority-voting rights in colonies before independence.

Soon after being stationed in Southern Rhodesian the major had interviewed a widow, whose husband had been killed in early NDP violence. The major was apolitical. He didn't ask if the National Democratic Party had legitimate grievances with the white minority government trying to keep control. He was there to keep help peace, increasingly difficult under the circumstances. He had continued to see the widow, Florence, during his years in the country. At first he imagined he was simply offering sympathy to the woman, but he eventually accepted he enjoyed her company. He was a confirmed bachelor at this point with no interest in inheriting a family and she had two children, the boy now thirteen. And so it was a surprise to him when he went to say goodbye the words, "Marry me. I want you to come with me," came from his mouth.

She looked less surprised by his proposal than he felt himself. "Yes."

It was the greatest moment of surprise and pleasure in his life to that point, only surpassed two years later when his son was born.

Adrianna visited her sister in 1967 out of a sense of duty more than for any pleasure it could bring. As far as she could tell it didn't matter to Eileen if she visited or not, and Tobias resented company. The house was in a dreadful state, and Adrianna was worried about her nephew. She looked up the address for the Flower Bakery and found it was only about a mile away.

The bakery might have only been a mile in terms of distance, but it was a world away in others. The witch inhaled deeply when she came in the door and smiled at Mary behind the counter, "It smells like Evans' Bakery. Or maybe heaven. I used to mix the two up."

Mary laughed, "It should smell like Evans', that's where I–"

"Ah, but does it taste like Evans'?" Adrianna demanded. "Do you have the…" She pointed excitedly to something on the bottom shelf behind the glass front. "Yes! I'll have two now and buy a dozen to take back to London. I'd better buy two dozen, I might eat a dozen myself on the train."

"Why are you up here? The sister you mentioned?"

"Exactly… Do you have a minute?"

"It's pretty quiet now…" Mary went back, opened a door and called up the stairs, "Petunia, could you put the kettle on for tea and watch the shop a moment?"

"Ah, Mom…"

"Don't, 'Ah, Mom,' me young lady. It's quiet now and I want to talk with an old friend."

"I'm worried about Severus," Adrianna said a few minutes later after taking a sip of tea.

"Severus?"

"My nephew, my sister's–"

"Oh yes, you mentioned him at the reunion. Sorry I forgot his name. About the same age as Lily?"

"Yes."

"What's the worry? I think you said he was a wizard?"

"Yes… It's just that… I don't like to say anything about my sister, but she… And her husband's even worse… I–"

"I'm having difficulty following you."

Adrianna sighed. "It's a nature versus nurture thing. Eileen and Tobias can't relate to other people. They're smart enough in their way, but they don't have the parenting skills of Jack the Ripper. Severus is a dull, sullen little thing. Maybe that's the way he is because that's the way he is – if that's the sort of nature you can inherit. Maybe that's the way he is because he's emotionally starved."

"I feel sorry for the boy. But with you in London, what are you going to do? Can you call the child protection authorities?"

"Doubt it. He has a roof over his head, clothes on his back, and food on the table – even if it's stale bread and cooked cabbage. There are enough children out there being beaten and starved the authorities won't do anything."

"Sorry."

"I was, um, wondering if you could talk with the boy."

"Me? Talk with him?"

"You seem like a caring woman. Just try and form an opinion. Is he really off in his own world like my sister, or does he just need a little attention to open up?"

"You need a child psychologist."

"There is no way that will happen. Even if I could talk Eileen into it, her husband would never allow it."

"And I don't know how you're going to arrange for me to meet the boy."

Adrianna smiled, "Oh, I have a few ideas."

Mary sighed, "Let's hear them."

It was hard for Mary to tell much about Severus the first time he came to the shop for her to 'baby-sit'. Petunia found him a grubby little urchin and wanted nothing to do with him. Although fascinated with the fact he was a little wizard Lily was almost as repelled by him as her older sister. Their mother found him difficult: rude and insecure and arrogant and ignorant all at once.

Mary sighed. She didn't really know what Adrianna expected of her. How was she supposed to evaluate the boy's problem? He seemed to have no interest in taking with Petunia or Lily. The kitchen fascinated him.

"It's very much like potions, isn't it?" the boy asked as he watched Mary mix a batch of dough. "I mean, you have to put in the right ingredients in the right order and mix them the right way, don't you?"

"I suppose it is. I've never mixed potions."

"My mother's wonderful with potions. She taught me a few things… When father isn't looking. She tells me things to, but not when he can hear."

"Would you like to try mixing up a little dough for ginger biscuits?"

His eyes went wide, "May I?"

"Wash your hands over at the sink," she directed.

Forty minutes later Mary and Severus sampled some of the first biscuits out of the oven. "These are very good," she told him. The boy glowed at her words. Compliments were rare in the Snape household.

"Mine are better," Petunia grumbled when Mary called her daughters to the back of the shop for glasses of milk and to sample what Severus had done.

"You've baked for years," her mother reminded her. "I think these are very fine for someone's first time."

"They are good," Lily agreed.

Severus stared at her, "You're the one who is the witch?"

"Yes."

"I'll do better at Hogwarts than you."

"Severus, that is rude," Mary told him firmly.

"But I–"

"It was rude. Apologize to Lily."

His father placed a heavy stress on obedience. "I'm sorry," the boy said mechanically. It was obvious he didn't mean it.

It was, all things considered, a most uncomfortable meeting. Mary felt a certain relief she would not need to see Severus again. She would call Adrianna that evening, report on the afternoon, and be done with her promise to meet the boy.

Before Severus left however, he suddenly begged, "May I come back again, please?"

"You want to come back here?"

"Yes, please. Can I make something else in the kitchen?"

Mary didn't really want the ragged child back, but she felt pity for the boy. The fact he wanted to come back said he found something in the Evans' home he wanted to experience again.

On his second visit Mary asked Lily to help with Severus, show him something in the kitchen and then the two of them could go out to a park and play.

At the end of his second visit the boy asked if he could come again. It became a ritual for him at the end of each visit, as important to him as the rituals his parents had developed over the years as they prepared to leave for work or the following a certain pattern of events when they arrived home in the evening.

Lily still wasn't certain what to feel about Severus. Her mother had told her she shouldn't judge people based on how they dressed, but his manners were very poor and she didn't like that. On the other hand, he was fascinating because he was a wizard. Her parents talked about witches and wizards, but they were not magical. Severus could do things that other people couldn't. He showed her how to do small bits of magic, and she was delighted to find out she really could do them.

Severus had even less idea how he should feel about Lily. She complimented him when he did well in the kitchen, and the praise felt very good. He was very pleased when he could show off his knowledge and teach her things. On the other hand, she laughed at him when he did badly in games she tried to teach him at the park. He always did badly at games. When he yelled at her for laughing at him she started to cry. That made him feel even worse than when she laughed at him.

Over the following months Severus became something of a regular around the Flower Bakery. Based on his skills at baking it seemed clear to everyone that he would do very well at potions. But Petunia wished he would simply go away and never come back, and Holly thought the boy was over more often than necessary. Mary noticed the young wizard was gradually becoming more civil in his manners. It would be nice for Lily to have a friend in the wizarding community if she was accepted at Hogwarts.

Lily had gradually come to see Severus as a special friend. The two would sometimes sit on swings in the park and talk about Hogwarts and what they would study if they went. He took pride at being able to show his knowledge to her. His mother let me borrow her gobstones and he taught Lily how to play. He still boasted he would be a great wizard someday, and while she had no idea what it meant to be a great wizard she always agreed with him, which pleased him too.

Severus did not realize it, but he had gradually come to worship Lily, and time spent with her were the happiest hours of his life.

Mrs. Filch passed away in 1968. Albus asked Argus to stay on as caretaker. The squib felt trapped. He didn't want to stay at Hogwarts, but had lost his connections with the muggle world and didn't know how to find a job outside Hogsmeade. Reluctantly he accepted the position, at least until someone responded to his letters seeking employment – and knowing the gaps in his employment history would prevent him from ever finding work.

The fifth book in the George Wheeler's popular mystery series, _Wendy Witch and the Frightened Friend,_ was dedicated, "To my good friend Cornelius Fudge and his encouragement." Cornelius, by then broadly recognized as a man who would go far in the Ministry of Magic, bought thirty-seven copies and gave them out as Christmas gifts that year.

* * *

For the most part I tried to remain canon possible prior to this chapter, but have departed for AU territory here.

An unruly audience in 1960 resulted in there being no Newport Jazz Festival in 1961. It returned with organizational changes in 1962.

In the days before Xerox and photocopies there was carbon paper, mimeographs, dittographs, and other ways of making very poor quality copies.

Mary Quant became an international sensation with her mod fashions designs in the 1960s. She opened her first shop on King's Road in 1955. The trend had been towards shorter skirts for years when Mary Quant provided a name for the shortest – the mini skirt – in the 60s. Bridget Riley began to develop her signature Op Art style around 1960.


	20. The Circle Begins

Unlike Hogwarts 1835 this story includes characters from JK Rowling's Harry Potter books in addition to the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts School. However, that a story set some fifty years earlier will lack important characters from Rowling's work.

Imablack checked for canon, all departures are my own. In addition she furnished me with her understanding of Aberforth Dumbledore which I used for his background. His daughter and other descendants belong to Imablack.

**The Circle Begins**

Mary took Petunia and Lily to London two days before the younger girl was to leave for Hogwarts. Severus accompanied them. The two children destined for Hogwarts were frightened and excited in equal measure.

Mary wanted the time to look around London, to show her daughters what she could of the places she remembered from her own childhood and see how the city had changed. Adrianna met them at the station. She sighed when she saw her nephew. She knew her sister and Tobias Snape earned more money than she and Albert, but Severus was going away to school and looked like a pauper in ill-fitting clothes.

Severus would tour the city with Mary and the girls the next day, but he spent the rest of the day with his aunt and her family. The Princes seemed very rich to him, because his cousins had toys, an unnecessary luxury his father frowned on. They dressed much better than he did. His cousins were also louder than anyone was allowed to be in the Snape home. Being with his cousins for two nights before the trip to Hogsmeade could not have been a greater cultural shock for Severus if he suddenly found himself stranded in a rural village in Nepal.

"Send us a note when you have your house," Mary told Lily as the group gathered at the station on the day of departure.

"I'll call you," Adrianna promised. "I should hear about the sorting before the post would arrive."

"Thank you."

Petunia was largely bored, and resentful of the fuss being made over her younger sister.

Adrianna hesitated, "It is an old tradition that incoming students not be told about the sorting ceremony, but–"

"Sorting ceremony?" Mary asked.

"When we're placed in a house," Severus said. "The four houses are–"

"I know the four houses," Mary told him. "But I don't know this sorting ceremony."

"As I was saying," Adrianna continued, "tradition says it must not be discussed – which is why Lily's mother doesn't know about it. Even though it is not supposed to be talked about I'll give you the warning your grandfather gave me before my First Night. You must swear not to tell your cousins."

"I promise," Severus solemnly told her.

Adrianna looked over at Lily, "And you?"

"I promise."

"The pain never lasts more than a week. Many students have recovered by the third day after the sorting."

"Pain?" Lily asked in a shaking voice.

"You must be brave."

"What's this about pain?" Mary demanded.

"Just part of the sorting process." Adrianna gave the woman a fast wink. Mary had heard enough of Adrianna's sense of humor to recognize it was joke. "They don't cut off the whole finger, and there is a special potion so that it grows back."

"She won't be hurt too badly, will she?" Petunia asked. It wasn't Lily's fault that the adults fussed so much over her and the younger girl was still her sister.

"I've never heard of anyone dying in the sorting ceremony," Adrianna assured her. "She'll be fine in a couple days." She addressed the two heading for Hogwarts. "Now then, all four houses are good. Severus, we Princes are usually in Slytherin. The house has produced many great wizards. Even if you don't go to Slytherin do your family proud in whatever house you find yourself."

"I hope I go to Slytherin," Lily said.

Adrianna sighed, "I don't know if you'd be a good fit for Slytherin. You're unusual, and–"

Severus spoke up in her defense, "She's not unusual. She's wonderful."

Lily gave her friend a smile of thanks, and he gazed at her with a look of puppy-like devotion.

"The fact your parents are both muggles makes you unusual. It is very rare for someone like you to be placed in Slytherin, and there would be people there who would ridicule you for it. From what I've heard those unusual people have always become great witches and wizards, but it would not be easy."

"I'll help you if we're both in Slytherin," Severus promised.

"All of the houses are good," Adrianna repeated to the girl. "I had friends in all of them. Hufflepuff is always kind to students who are different in any way, but all the houses are good."

"You'll do fine wherever you are," Mary told her daughter. "Now, do you have everything?" she asked for the twentieth time that morning.

"Yes, mother."

Adrianna gave her nephew a hug, he seemed uncertain how he was expected to respond. "You ready too?"

"Yes," he assured her. Now that the day had actually arrived the thrill of leaving for Hogwarts, of being free of his father's rules and miser habits, outweighed any fear.

"Can we go now?" Petunia whined.

Mary looked at her watch, "We do need to catch our train." Lily gave her mother a final hug before Adrianna took them to the Hogwarts Express platform. It was a long, fierce hug. For her the fear of leaving the family she knew and loved for the strange and unfamiliar was now stronger than the excitement. When she released her mother she clung to the arm of her friend.

Severus smiled at her touch, feeling needed for perhaps the first time in his life.

As the trio waited on the Hogwarts platform among a growing number of new and returning students Adrianna quizzed her nephew, "And what do you do when you reach Hogsmeade?"

"Find the Hog's Head and say hello to Mr. Dumbledore for Uncle Al and my mother. My mother didn't say I should do that."

"I'm sure she would have if she thought of it, dear. Mr. Dumbledore helped her a great deal. He's very smart and you should be friendly to him – he could help you too."

"Isn't Dumbledore the name of the headmaster?" Lily asked timidly, afraid she had somehow gotten confused.

"Professor Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster," Severus said quickly, proud he could display knowledge of the school.

"Abe is his brother and runs a pub in the village. My husband was an evacuee and stayed with Abe and his wife during the war. That was where I met him. And my sister, Severus's mother," she put a hand on the head of her nephew and tousled his hair (Severus wasn't certain if it was a sign of affection or if he had annoyed her in some manner he was unaware of), "sometimes went to the Hog's Head with questions for Abe. He is very good at potions."

"I'll take first in potions," Severus bragged.

"I'll bet you do," his aunt agreed. "Your mother always took first in potions. We Princes are a distinguished family."

"He's not a Prince, he's a Snape," Lily protested.

"He's a half-blood Prince, and as far as I'm concerned he's a full Prince," Adrianna said and hugged her nephew again, which now clearly embarrassed him because it drew snickers from students standing around them.

As soon as Mary arrived home she wrote to Hagrid, asking him to keep an eye on Lily for her. He pledged to watch the girl any way he could.

Hagrid usually had little contact with students, but he made an effort to speak with Lily as often as possible. Lily guessed his interest grew from his friendship with her mother and father, and anything she said to him might be reported to her parents. At the same time the large man was kind and listened to her fears and dreams. With the tumult of being away from home and family among strangers who seemed more familiar with magic than she thought she would ever feel she needed a father figure to make her a mug of tea and listen to her. If Lily saw Hagrid as something of a surrogate father he saw her as something of a surrogate daughter. Perhaps if Mary had accepted his proposal they'd have a daughter at Hogwarts.

Severus spent the winter break with his aunt Adrianna. Adrianna and Albert had many extra performances during the holidays and asked him to watch his cousins. He didn't miss the celebration of Christmas at the Prince home because it had never been a celebration at his own home. Nothing had ever been a celebration in the Snape home. His cousins thought he was a terrible babysitter, but their mother calmed them down as best she could and hoped Severus would become better at dealing with people through interaction with family.

Lily protested when her mother and father said they would drive her to Hogwarts her second year instead of sending her to London for the express. "Everyone is on the train! It's where you can talk to people you haven't seen all summer!"

"It's traveling down to London and a night at some hotel before traveling north to Hogwarts." Holly told her, "I grew up in Hogsmeade; I still know people there. Your mother was there for years. We want to see friends."

"Well why do I have to go with you?"

"If we're going to Hogsmeade we aren't going to send you to London by yourself. And you'll have all year to ask what your friends did this summer. Why don't you ask Severus if he wants to come with us?"

The two preparing for the start of their second year rode in the back seat. The day was hot and tempers grew frayed on the trip.

"Mommy! Severus put his hand on my side of the car seat!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

"My hand is on my side, Mrs. Evans. It is right at the edge but it's on my side."

"No it's not."

Holly turned to Mary, "I suppose the child endangerment people would take it badly if I pulled over and left them on the side of the road."

"I believe so dear. And tempting as the idea might sound at the present I fear it is one of those decisions one might regret in later life. Years from now, in retirement, one of us would turn to the other and ask, 'What do you suppose happened to that girl we put out of the car?'."

"They wouldn't really, would they?" Severus whispered.

"No," Lily assured him. "At least I don't think so."

"Why don't we stop in the next village for cold sodas," Mary suggested. "It might put us in a better mood."

Lily drank her soda more quickly as Severus savored what was for him a rare treat. When she thought her parents weren't looking she leaned over and bumped him gently with her shoulder. As expected, he retaliated by leaning over and bumping her gently with his.

"Mommy! Severus hit me!"

"He bumped you, dear–"

"But–"

"The very same way you bumped him. I watched you."

Lily looked over and grinned at Severus, who smiled back.

Holly sighed. "I offered to leave them on the side of the road," he reminded his wife. "You insisted they remain in the car, so I'm holding you responsible."

The roads into Hogsmeade did not support automobile traffic so Holly parked in a small, overgrown area near the pavement's end that was used by anyone driving to the village. Most who arrived by auto would fly their brooms in from that point, but a large man sat in a horse drawn wagon waiting for them.

Hagrid waved and called, "Mary! Holly!" as they emerged from the car. Holly struggled to pull the two trunks from the boot and Hagrid went over, picking up one heavy trunk in each hand, and carrying them to the wagon. Holly then retrieved the small satchel for himself and Mary and joined the others already in the wagon.

"You look well," Mary told him. "What's going on in the village?"

"I'll tell you later," Hagrid answered cryptically.

At Hogsmeade the trunks were left at the station for the house elves to take to the school and the children went to explore the village before the express arrived. "We should tell them we were on the train and ask why they didn't see us," Lily suggested as they headed for the green.

The adults rode to the stable to return the horses and wagon.

"Now, what was it you didn't want to say in front of the children," Holly demanded as they left the stable.

"Some bad things are starting to happen, leastwise I'm hearing stories of bad things–"

"Anything definite, or just stories?" Mary wanted to know.

"I know someone killed all the livestock out at the Hart farm, slashed their throats. Used the blood to paint, 'Muggles out' on the side of the barn.

Holly and Mary were both shocked. "Oh, my God," Mary whispered. "What happened?"

"Whitey left. I think he'd of fought if it was just him, and if he knew who to fight, but didn't want his family hurt."

"And… It's Alice, isn't it?"

"Alice Hart. Yep. She sold the farm. Gave the money to Whitey and Boadicca to buy a new place and said she wanted to move with them. She's grandmother to the children. They're down in Cornwall now, got a little dairy herd."

"That's terrible! Does anyone know who did it?"

Hagrid shrugged, "Well, whoever did it, of course. But they won't admit it. If anyone else knows anything they aren't talking – afraid for their own families."

"How dreadful," Mary commented. "He was the last of the evacuees, wasn't he?" Hagrid nodded. "Any other muggles in the village?"

"No, not any muggles. But some squibs want to move out too. Can't say I blame them."

That evening, as the new students went through the sorting ceremony, Hagrid, Holly, and Mary went into the forest to talk with Firenze. The centaur seemed incredulous as they described some of the wonders of their home. Television in particular seemed impossible for him to grasp and he was as hesitant to believe their story of moving pictures in a box in their home as their Manchester neighbors would have been at the claim they were talking with a centaur.

Some of Lily's letters home that year complained that Severus didn't talk with her as much as he had first year. He was sometimes too busy with his Slytherin friends to take the walks along the lake they had enjoyed first year. Hagrid did not spend much of his time in the school, but he did offer different opinions based on conversation with professors. Lily was making more friends, Hagrid wrote, because she was spending less time with Severus. Severus, the giant reported, was often the victim of bullying because he was poorly dressed and lacking in social skills. From Hagrid's conversations with professors it seemed the general opinion was that Lily regularly defended her Slytherin friend, and the embarrassment of needing a girl to defend him was why he was distancing himself from Lily.

Mary put down Hagrid's letter and reflected. People did change. It was possible Severus was making friends in his own house and wasn't as dependent on Lily. But Mary sensed such a devotion to her daughter in the young wizard that she looked for some other motive. She imagined Severus might see less of Lily to force her into making more friends in her own house. Or perhaps, if he was treated as badly as Hagrid reported, he didn't want Lily's own reputation to suffer through her friendship with him.

Mary didn't know if either of her theories were true, but she wanted to imagine one of them could be accurate. She carefully wrapped a box of ginger biscuits she knew Severus was especially fond of and sent them to him as a way of saying thanks.

Mary rode with her parents in the Morris Marina for the start of her third year. Severus had been invited to go with them, and accepted, but changed his plans after a call from his aunt asking if he would accompany his cousin, Ariel Prince, to her first year.

"Severus found out he'll be studying fifth year potions this year," Lily told her parents.

"Fifth year? When he's third year?"

"He was doing third year potions his second year. Potions are easy for him."

Lily and her parents arrived in Hogsmeade two days before First Night. They hated being away from the shop for several days. Mrs. Eliot, their neighbor, could watch Petunia without any difficulty. But Petunia was not old enough to run the shop in their absence. And while their shop assistants were honest and wouldn't take cash from the till they were not good enough at baking to risk leaving them in charge.

"I don't know why you worry," Lily told her parents. "So what if the regulars have to buy a loaf somewhere else? It just means they'll appreciate our shop more when you get back."

"If they come back," Holly muttered.

"If our bakery is open why would anyone go anywhere else?" Lily insisted.

One of the reasons they traveled to Hogsmeade two days before the sorting was to talk with Hagrid about the threats of violence.

"Any more on the anti-muggle trouble you told us about last year? You never said much in your letters, but I'm uncertain what that means," Mary asked. "Is Lily safe?"

"Lily should be safe at Hogwarts. Problem's still around, getting worse if anything. There's a name being mentioned, Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Holly asked. "Never heard of anyone named Voldemort."

"I haven't met anyone who has," Rubeus agreed. "Leastwise no one who'll admit it. Some won't say the name."

"Why not?"

"Not sure. Might be superstition – mention his name is like inviting trouble. Bigger problem is you don't know who might be his friends. Heard of some wizard in Edinburgh who talked a lot about Voldemort. His house burned down with him in it."

"Could be coincidence."

"And could be a warning to tell others to keep their mouths closed."

"Wonder if it's that damn Tom Riddle?" Holly muttered.

"Why do you say that?" Mary asked.

"Because he was a right bastard," Holly spat. "I won't give you the details, but I know it. You know it too, don't you Rube?"

"That was years ago. I don't know why you think he's so evil. He got me thrown out of Hogwarts, but I don't think he did it on purpose. Everyone was frightened after that girl was killed, they were desperate to find the killer. When he saw that big spider he just put two and two together and got six. He really thought the spider killed her. Headmaster thought Aragog killed her too. They were wrong to blame me, but everyone was in a right state of panic."

"Did they ever find what killed the girl?" Mary asked.

"Nope," Rubeus told them. "And nobody talks about that either. Arguments about that started a lot of fights over the years. Still some who think I'm responsible. Lot of people think if you don't talk about a problem it'll just go away."

"And I wouldn't put that witch's death past Riddle either. He was here then."

"To return to the present," Mary reminded her husband, "we're asking about Lily's safety." She turned to Rubeus, "I think I hear you saying things are dangerous for wizards all over the country."

"Not sure it's that much worse for wizards than anyone else. World's a dangerous place. But after those cattle killed out at the Hart place it's mostly been quiet here at Hogsmeade. I don't think they want to do anything too close to Professor Dumbledore."

"So you believe she's safe?"

Rubeus turned to Holly, "Does she make you repeat yourself three times before she believes you?"

Holly nodded, "Only if it's important."

The big man sighed, "She's as safe here as anywhere in the world."

Things were more chaotic than usual at the Hog's Head that year for two reasons. First, Eleanor had grown increasingly frail the last few years and could no longer work in the kitchen. Aberforth complained it would take three women to take her place. At the moment the couple had one they trusted, another woman who could do the work with moderate supervision, and three incompetents – one of whom they hoped might in time develop the skills necessary to run the pub kitchen, if the sun didn't burn out first.

The second reason for chaos was much more pleasant. The Dumbledores daughter, Mary, was visiting from the States and had brought her grandchildren – Aberforth and Ellie's great-grandchildren – with her. Mary Evans had met Mary Price, the Dumbledore's daughter, once before she moved out to Hogsmeade to Manchester.

Mary Price had not been able to see her parents during the war years, but was trying to get back to Britain about every other year. Mary took after her mother, and her presence provided a great relief to her parents during the visit.

With Mary watching the kitchen staff Aberforth and Ellie were even able to sit at a table for a little while with Rubeus, Holly, and Mary Evans. They were both excited that Albert's daughter would be starting Hogsmeade, but they wanted any other information Holly and Mary had on other evacuees.

"When is your family going back to the States?" Mary Evans asked Ellie.

"They have a flight two days after First Night. Mary is very sorry that Albert won't be bringing Ariel. She heard so much about him during the war that she really wanted to meet him."

"He applied to get off work and come north with her, but his fill-in broke his arm in a cycling accident. Adrianna still hopes to take time off, but she put in her request rather late because she thought Albert would be bringing Ariel. They've asked her cousin to come with her."

"Children are a trial," Aberforth intoned solemnly. "Grandchildren… Grandchildren are ideal. You're too young to know what you're doing with children. And you're too old to enjoy the great-grandchildren. You should have asked me, I'd have advised you to skip having children and simply start with the grandchildren."

"Hush, you," Ellie laughingly scolded. She told the others, "We hardly know our granddaughter; she was raised in the States. We're very happy Mary is able to bring the great-grandchildren over. And Abe absolutely dotes on Lucy."

"I want her to marry some nice young wizard and take over the Hog's Head so Ellie and I can retire," Aberforth explained.

Mary looked confused, "I thought Lucy was the one about Lily's age."

"She is," Aberforth agreed. " She can wait a few years to get married, but I'm announcing my retirement and handing the keys of this place to her husband as soon as she says 'I do'."

"And why does she need a husband to take over the Hog's Head?" Rubeus asked.

"Place needs a man in charge," Abe answered.

"There's something going on outside Hogsmeade," Mary told him, "it's called women's liberation. You may not have heard of it, but it is the radical idea that women have brains and are fully capable."

"I don't doubt that for a minute," Abe assured her. "Ellie here tells me that every day. But place still needs a man. I'm quite certain it's the only reason her father allowed that worthless young rascal to marry his beautiful daughter years ago."

Eleanor patted him on the hand, "You weren't that worthless, although you were a rascal. Let's see if any of the great-grandchildren want to take over someday. It would be nice if it stayed in the family."

"Lucy loves the place," Aberforth said in a whispered aside loud enough for everyone at the table to here.

Lucy was about the same age as Lily. Lucy showed Lily things around the village that the Hogwarts student didn't know, and taught the city girl how to milk a goat. Lily took Lucy to the school. Argus Filch initially told them they couldn't enter the building, but after learning that Lily was a great-grandniece to the headmaster he allowed them to tour the building.

While Albus went into Hogsmeade to see Mary Price and other family it was Lucy's first time to see the Headmaster in his study. Although visitors were rarely allowed to watch the sorting he asked Lucy if she wanted to see First Night, and said she could sit at Lily's house table. Lucy happily agreed.

On the evening before Severus was to take the express to Hogsmeade with his cousin he managed to talk with the young girl for a few minutes alone. "I have something important to tell you," he warned.

"About what?"

"About the sorting, when you go to one of the houses."

The girl looked nervous, "Does it hurt as much as mum says?" she whispered.

"Look, this is important. People aren't supposed to tell you about sorting, not really tell you about it anyway. Your mum told you the Prince story. I want you to know more. You don't want to go to Slytherin, you–"

"Yes I do," she interrupted. "I want to go to Slytherin. The Princes all go to Slytherin… You're in Slytherin."

"There are some things happening now… There's… It's… Your father is a muggle. There are some people there who will make fun of you, bully you."

"Do they do that to you?"

"Yes they do."

"Oh…" She wasn't sure what to say.

"You are sorted by talent, and personality, and desire. If you–"

"How do they do that?"

"It really doesn't matter. Now–"

"Does it hurt?"

"No, it doesn't hurt. Families just tell stories to their children… Maybe it makes you more open in your feelings or maybe it's just a mean trick. But in the sorting you need to think hard about one of the other houses. Think very hard. It's what you want more than anything. That should get you into one of the other houses… Do you know anyone with family in one of the other houses, except Gryffindor?"

"Why not Gryffindor?"

"All the wizards in Gryffindor are mentally defective. Stay away from them."

"Mentally defective?"

"Yeah… Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff?"

"Esther Kerber is starting Hogwarts too. She–"

"There's a third year in Ravenclaw named– Oh, wait. He'll be a fourth year. Jake Kerber. That her brother?"

"Yes. They go to our synagogue."

"Esther your friend? Does she want to go to Ravenclaw?"

"Yes."

"Then during the sorting, you think very, very hard, 'I want to be in Ravenclaw. I want to be in Ravenclaw.' And maybe that's where you'll go."

"And it won't hurt?"

"It won't hurt. But don't tell anyone what I told you. You aren't supposed to tell new students what will really happen."

"But how does the sorting happen?"

"I just said, I can't tell you."

"But you told me something… Did you tell me the truth?"

"Yes, I did. Think Ravenclaw."

"Please, tell me just a little? I won't tell anyone. I promise."

He smiled, "No details. At the sorting a very old magic will look at you." He touched his forehead, "It will look into your mind." He touched his chest, "It will look into your heart. If your head and heart want the same thing, and you've got the talent, it will decide very quickly–"

"Why do you keep saying 'it'? What is the old magic?"

"Do you always ask questions like this? You're annoying."

"Daddy says it's because I'm smart and I'm going to do well."

"Do well in Ravenclaw. If the head and the heart don't agree sometimes it takes a few minutes before a new student is assigned to a house. Gryffindor gets the wizards who're mentally defective. The witches there are okay, but the wizards are jerks. Slytherin gets the ambitious wizards. Ravenclaws use their wits – never argue with a Ravenclaw. There are some smart wizards there. Hufflepuff… Hufflepuff gets the students who don't fit anywhere else. Some of them are very smart. Some of them are kind of slow. But they all work hard and they watch out for each other – I've never seen a Hufflepuff bully anyone."

Ariel went to the Hog's Head with a package for the Dumbledores immediately after her arrival at Hogsmeade.

Hagrid arrived at the Hog's Head the morning after sorting with a horse and cart to take Holly and Mary Evans back to their car. A small shabby figure stood outside the pub as they emerged.

"What're you doing out of school?" Hagrid growled.

"I wanted to see Mr. and Mrs. Evans," Severus told him.

"You're not supposed to be–"

Mary put a hand on the huge man's arm. "It's fine, Rubeus." She looked at the boy. "I'm glad I got to see you before we went home. I'm sorry your cousin went to Ravenclaw. Your aunt will be disappointed."

"Ariel will do fine in Ravenclaw."

"I suspect you're right. Do you have a message from Lily, or do you have a message for us to take to your mother or aunt?"

"I didn't tell Lily I was coming. I wanted to see you… I wanted to say goodbye before you went back, and to ask if I could work at the bakery this summer. You don't have to pay me much. I just want a little… I want to buy some better clothes. Please?"

Before Holly could politely say no, they didn't need any help at the bakery Mary answered, "Yes. We'd be happy to have you. You're smart and you work hard."

The boy was clearly excited, "Thank you!"

She gave him a fast hug. "It will be nice to have you. Now, Rubeus is right, you need to be back in school."

With a hurried goodbye Severus started jogging back to school. The three adults watched him for a minute.

"Odd little duck," Rubeus commented. "Moody. Professors say he's just fine one day and in a foul temper the next for no reason they can tell."

"He is a teenage boy," Mary pointed out. "And while I have two daughters I retain a vivid memory of teenage boys sometimes acting in a peculiar manner."

"Yer not talking about me, are you?" Rubeus asked.

Mary laughed, "Of course not. You were always the perfect gentleman. I was speaking of other teenage boys I knew."

"See," Holly insisted, "be glad she didn't marry you. She heaps scorn and abuse on her husband's head and openly flirts with other men."

Rubeus came to Mary's defense, "I think I could have lived with that, if she'd accepted my proposal."

"You are still the perfect gentleman," Mary told Hagrid, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "But I was fated to give my heart to this rogue."

As they rode out to the car Hagrid reminded them, "You're welcome to come up to Hogsmeade anytime, you know. Lot happening around Christmas."

"Lot happening in the bakery around Christmas too," Mary pointed out. "What do you think, Holly? Maybe take a couple days off in mid-January?"

"We'll see… I used to love the forest in the winter – could spend hours without seeing another soul.

After leaving Hagrid Holly headed the Morris in the direction of home. "Don't know why you told that boy he could have a job this summer."

"How many reason do you want? His parents don't provide very well for him. He is very good around the bakery… You'll admit that, won't you?"

"I suppose."

"He said he wants to dress a little better – nothing wrong with that, is there? I suspect he might have a young lady he wants to impress. Lily is–"

"Not Lily. Not that ugly git and Lily."

"He's not an ugly git. He is a very talented young man and seems very devoted to her."

"He may be talented, but he's an ugly git and not good enough for our Lily."

"Is any boy good enough for our Petunia or Lily?"

"No. What's your point?"

Mary laughed. "You might be right. But there is a very good chance that someday a pair of undeserving young men of some sort may capture the hearts of our daughters. I think there is a great deal of potential in Severus."

About twenty miles further down the highway Holly hit the brakes suddenly, alarming Mary who had been watching scenery out the window. "What?" she gasped.

"Damn fool in the road," Holly grunted. He narrowed his eyes and looked at the man with his arms outstretched. "What the hell… Is that Tom Riddle?"

Mary stared also, "Of course not, you just have Riddle on your mind after talking about him the other day."

The next morning Tom Riddle carefully went through the Easley Morning Post as he had his coffee at the cafe. He finally found a small article he was looking for on page five.

**Two Die in One Car Accident**  
Holly and Mary Evans of Spinner's End, Manchester,  
died when their car left Bruce Road and went down  
an embankment four kilometers north of Stropping.  
The cause of the accident remains under investigation.

Tom Riddle smiled and folded the newspaper. There was nothing to make the deaths sound suspicious in any way. He wondered if his visit to Hogwarts tomorrow would be too great a coincidence, but decided not to delay. He was a respectable alumnus paying a respectable visit. Should anyone mention the death of a student's parents he would look properly concerned at the news. He would not even remember Holly, if asked.

There was no point in mentioning the deaths of Holly and Mary to anyone. While implacable hatred towards one's foes and the patience to carry out a death threat even after years would be considered a virtue to his followers there were stronger reasons not to mention it.

First, there was the chance he might merely look petty – and Lord Voldemort did not wish to appear petty. Petty was Bear killing the cattle at the Hart farm because one of their evacuees had given him a black eye and a bloody nose in a fight. And petty was stupid, Riddle did not want to play his hand too soon near Hogwarts. Second, someone might ask why he had vowed to kill Holly in the first place – and Riddle had no desire to tell the story of how Ogg manhandled him and Holly had beaten him a fight. And finally, and perhaps most important, word of his hand in the deaths of the couple might reach Severus Snape.

Riddle sighed and took another sip of coffee. He wished he could attract a higher caliber of followers. It didn't matter who your parents were if you were a wizard and recognized wizards as superior to muggles. All indications were that Severus Snape was a brilliant young wizard. He should be courted for the addition he would make to the circle of friends around Riddle. There were three distinct categories in the world. First were the wizards who recognized their superiority, and were therefore to be welcomed into the fold. Next were the muggles, by nature inferior wizards and fit only to serve or as playthings for the amusement of wizards. And finally there were race traitors, who refused to recognize the superiority their birth into the wizarding community grated to them. While some of them in time might recognize the superiority of wizards and become followers most of them were more contemptible than muggles – denying their own superior birthright for some nonsense about all people being equals. Some would even dare oppose him and his plans.

But when you stressed the importance of wizard blood you ended up with followers who would ridicule those with a muggle parent, even if he or she were in Slytherin. They needed to work more on a spirit of family - like Hufflepuff.

Severus Snape had arrived in Slytherin in need of friends. Had he been welcomed properly he'd already belong to Voldemort body and soul. Instead he'd been teased and bullied by others in the house for his poor clothing and muggle father. Riddle could appreciate a wizard with that background. His own father was a muggle and he had been raised in poverty. At Hogwarts his intellectual abilities had blossomed. Tom had overcome his handicaps and thrived. Given the chance Severus Snape could easily overcome his handicaps as well. Tom Riddle, like Mary Evans, sensed there was a great deal of potential in Severus Snape.

But Riddle's friends in Slytherin told him that young Snape had a close friendship with a muggle family, sometimes even receiving packages of biscuits or other treats. Riddle had decided to eliminate the young man's muggle friends. He made the decision before knowing that Holly Evans and his wife were the couple.

Riddle finished his coffee and snapped his fingers to get the girl's attention. He pointed to his empty cup, indicating he wanted a refill. _"Life is good,"_ Riddle reflected as he watched her refill his coffee. Surely it must have been fate to bring Holly Evans back into his life so that he could be killed. Fate had always been good to him. Fate, good planning, and his own intelligence. Riddle trusted more in himself than in fate. His plans were developing nicely. There was no need to rush things. He would sow fear among his enemies and win more friends until he assumed his rightful place as head of Britain's wizards. Having finished the second cup of coffee Tom flipped a shilling. Heads, he'd pay for his breakfast. Tails, and a memory charm would leave the muggles unaware he'd even been there. He always found it an amusing game. Heads… This morning he would pay. _"Life is very good,"_ he thought again as he searched through his pocket for change to pay the bill.

–The End–

* * *

In the course of writing of the real deaths of millions over the course of World War II – from mass starvation, deliberate attempts at genocide, the targeting of civilian populations by bombers, and the revenge killings of ten of thousands it became increasing difficult to see Tom Riddle as a force for evil. He became more of a simple thug in my mind, a schoolyard bully who has gotten out of hand.

Given the low number of reads and reviews in comparison to my other stories I have no plans to write more Hogwarts stories (couple ideas, but no plans). But many thanks to Imablack, Son of Whitebeard, Kaede Shinomori, Mr. Wizard, Thomas Linquist, anonmum, Dracarot, Bhel-Elryss, Anansii, arioso dolente, Lissie1019, A Markov, victorie-weasley-4-teddy-lupin, Aspieturtle, Hyzenthlay1972, music4ruth, and Dr. Platypus for their reviews. Thanks, you provided the encouragement to make it possible to finish this.


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